


Seven Flings

by Reyanth



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Cousins, Kink, Lolicon, M/M, Pern, Shotacon, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: The Mankai dorms are not only plagued by seven mysteries, but also by a host of relationships. Here are seven of those stories.1. Itaru/Yuki2. Azuma/Sakyo3. Tsuzuru/Masumi4. Juza/Muku/Banri (and a little Azu-ne on the side)5. Akito (Summer ensemble)/Tenma6. ???/???7. ???/???





	1. Adulting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itaru/Yuki
> 
> A study on blurred lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I decided to make a series of the couple of one-shots I had in mind, and somehow got stuck on the idea of "7 flings". I've been holding off for a while because I wanted to decide on all 7 pairings first and at least set them each in motion to get an idea of the full picture, but the long-decided first two chapters are ready to share and the Haru solo show inspired me to hurry up and share them.

Pushing his controller away, Itaru gave up the pretense. He'd been palming himself casually for about half an hour, but now the image was building firmly in his mind.

He'd stopped focusing on leveling his furry-eared little mage at least three battles ago. Instead, he kept imagining bending the green-haired shota over whatever log or rock featured most conveniently in the background and banging him.

The mage had a name, of course, but it wasn't the fake compilation of letters that labelled him onscreen. "SnoTTyBrAt" was a red herring, lest any of his dorm mates should catch a glimpse of the character and think he harbored any fantasies about a rather similar real-world boy by the name of Yuki...which also happened to be the inspiration for the avatar's real, undocumented name referred to only in thought...because, of course Itaru's sordid mind was rife with fantasies about the sexy little cock-tease he shared a home with.

Not that he ever let himself think about Yuki in that way. Not the real Yuki, anyway. Instead, the black mage furry with green hair and gold eyes, not-so-cleverly but very secretly punned Ukey, bore the brunt of his lustful urges.

That was the boy he was imagining himself pounding into a bridge railing when he jerked hard and began ejaculating all over his furiously pumping fist...the very same moment an entitled, jade-haired, tsundere seamstress slammed through his door and demanded his presence for a fitting.

At least, that was what Itaru assumed he had been about to demand. Yuki didn't get much further than a blistering scold about being out of contact when he froze, eyes popping. The sight of him only made Itaru's cock twitch with another thick spurt, hands free, as he raised his soiled fist in the air in panic.

Turning away hurriedly and covering his face, Yuki let out a wail of distress. "Oh my god!"

Itaru lunged for the first thing in reach, a parker, and piled it in his lap to hide his still somewhat enthused boner. His keyboard clattered to the floor as a result of his haste and Yuki jumped and cringed, peeking back at him.

"Yuki!? Shit!" he gasped. "What the hell!? What... What do you want?" Dumb question. He was flustered beyond coherent thought and it was painfully obvious. "I... Shit."

"You crazy gamer!" Yuki shrieked, whirling on him, fury shaking off the shock. "That's disgusting!"

"Damn!" Itaru cursed, struggling into his nearby tracksuit pants while trying to hide his shame from Yuki's sight. "I'm sorry! I can't believe... Damn it. I'm really sorry," he rambled, but when he was clothed enough and had wiped his hand off on a merch towel hanging beside his desk, he took a deep breath. Then, he met Yuki's glower head-on. Yuki didn't know the worst of it. Apologizing just made him look guiltier. "You know what? No, I'm not! It's perfectly normal."

The glower evolved into a scowl. "Not when you do it in front of people!"

"Hey! Nobody asked you to come in here without even knocking!" Itaru pointed out, his embarrassment turning to anger. Of all the people who could have come charging in on him at a moment like that...

Yuki's eyes widened. "Oh my god," he gasped, his voice quiet with the astonishment of his perceived realization. "Is that what you're doing in here, all the time? Let us think you're playing games, but really-"

"The fuck!? No! Not that I need to explain myself to you, but... No! This was a once-off, alright? I just had to blow off some frustration, ok? And it's not disgusting. It's a fact of life."

Lie after lie rolled into something resembling righteous indignation and Itaru drew himself up to his full height, resisting the urge to keep wiping his hand until it no longer felt so drenched in sin.

Maybe it was something in his expression, overdone to compensate for critical insecurity, but Yuki's features trembled pitifully and then a wave of tears crested his lower lashes at once, splashing heavily down cheeks tinted rose with an angry flush. A moment later, he was in a tussle with the door handle, and then he bolted out into the night.

"Yuki!"

Swearing, Itaru overcame his chagrin after a stunned pause and ran after him through the empty courtyard. He caught up to the boy purely by merit of his longer legs and snagged one thin arm, bringing Yuki to a halt.

"Are you crying? What the hell for?" he hissed, genuinely surprised by the over-reaction.

"Don't touch me!" Yuki snapped immediately, his voice strong and expressive even through the tears. "Your hands are dirty!"

"Yeah. Ok." Itaru let go, raising his hands like a thief caught in the act. "That's fair... Listen, Yuki... I know you're still young, so this kind of thing might be new to you, but-"

"It's not."

The surprisingly calm response now took Itaru aback. Maybe Yuki had mistaken his meaning.

"What?" he asked, hoping to prompt an elaboration.

"It's not new to me."

Well, sure. Yuki was a growing boy. It would be absurd to think he hadn't started masturbating. Itaru had even let the concept cross his mind once or twice. Ok, so...

"Then what's the fuss all about?"

"Forget it."

"Are you kidding me!? You burst in on me and now you're crying about it! Forget it!? Even if I wanted to-"

"It's because it's you, ok!?" Yuki yelled, his angry eyes snapping up to glare into Itaru's. "It makes me sick that you were thinking of someone else! I can't even look at you right now!"

Why would Yuki care who he was thinking about? Unless... It couldn't be. Regardless, the boy's assumption was wrong.

Itaru took a deep breath and then moved closer without thought, instinctually creating a sense of intimacy. "Yuki... I wasn't. I wasn't thinking of...anyone else."

"Huh?"

Did he have to spell it out? Surely Yuki, of all people, was sharp enough to catch his drift.

Of course Yuki got it. He was just being his usual, obstinate self. He'd make Itaru spit it out one way or another. May as well get it over and done with.

"You're the one who made that necessary." He was close enough to lean down and kiss the brooding shorty if he wanted to... If he allowed himself to. "You've been driving me crazy lately, ok? I mean..." Grasping firm hold of his senses, Itaru took a full step backward. "It's not ok. I can't afford to think of you like that. You're right. It is disgusting." His eyes raked down the slight figure standing vulnerably before him. "You're way too young."

Yuki took a small shuffle of a step. "You're not exactly old, yourself."

He probably didn't realize his body language might be sending a signal he didn't intend.

"No, but you're underaged, and I'm not," Itaru stated, mostly for his own benefit even as he backed up another step. "That's all there is to it. Please, can we just forget this ever happened? It's embarrassing at best."

Yuki moved closer again, this time more purposefully.

"You were thinking about me?" 

Did he have any idea how hard it was for Itaru not to just grab him when he moved in like that? Maybe he should teach the kid a lesson! 

Why not? He'd have plenty of time to reflect on it from his jail cell.

"I'm sorry, Yuki. It won't happen again. I'll leave the dorm if that would make you more comfortable."

There, he'd laid his compromise on the table. It had been a point of guilt in him for some time. Knowing he was barely hanging on to a non-criminal mindset yet remaining so close... Surely Yuki would want him gone now the secret was out. Itaru couldn't leave Mankai Company. That was too much. He'd joined for the dorm, and now he was willing to give that up for this pipsqueak...but he'd come to love acting, and all of his companions. Besides, he'd go mad if he couldn't see Yuki at all.

While he was lost in regret for having come so far that he was going to lose his private castle, Yuki had closed the distance. Suddenly, his hand was on Itaru's forearm, rubbing upwards in what was probably intended to be a soothing motion.

"I bet it was a real shock when I walked in on you."

Itaru froze. It was safer that way. If he just denied himself movement and waited out the affectionate whim, it would pass and Yuki's poisonous tongue would inevitably surface, parting them in no time.

"I... Yeah. For sure."

Yuki smirked, and all at once Itaru recognized the gleam in his eyes as predatory. It was a sudden and ironic flip of the roles he himself had perceived between them until that moment.

"The look on your face..." murmured Yuki, inching ever closer. "Like your heart stopped for one second...and then your brain caught up with your eyes..." He was so tiny, or so it seemed, looking directly down at him from that new angle. The sight tickled at Itaru's most forbidden musings. "I won't forget that expression any time soon."

"My brain had nothing to do with it," Itaru breathed, hardly daring to push his luck. He swallowed hard and tried to calm the boiling under his skin with blank thoughts. "What's your game, Yuki? I know you're winding me up on purpose here, I just don't know what you plan to do about it. I've never had any intention of touching you, ok? That hasn't changed."

"Hasn't? Or won't? It's a big difference." Before Itaru knew it, Yuki was somehow pressed up against him, wrapped in his arms. His voice was breathy with desire. "If I see that stupid, rapturous face of yours in my dreams, will you take responsibility?"

Itaru remained silent, feeling as if he might burst with the need to sweep Yuki right off his feet then and there. He was low on HP and drowning in the enemy assault. Would it be so bad to just give in, just this once?

Yuki wasn't done.

"If I see it whenever I close my eyes... Or every time I look at you..."

Was he just teasing? Or did he mean to follow through?

Better to play it safe, keep a few tricks in reserve just in case. "Yuki, I can't undo what you saw, so-"

"Have you ever been interrupted while singing to yourself?"

That was Yuki's hand on his crotch, trapped between their bodies. Teasing was officially ruled out. 

"Uh, mmm."

"I hate that more than anything," Yuki growled. "I have to finish the melodic phrase or I'll go crazy."

He had a point there.

"Ok."

"Your dumb face is stuck in my head, too. I have to get it out somehow."

Closing his eyes, Itaru tried to pretend he had even a shred of hope left of getting out of this without leaping right over the line.

"Just tell me what I can do to help," he begged.

Yuki had to say it. That was the one condition he could still hold onto.

The small hand on his privates clenched around his brand new bulge. His whole body jerked.

"I have to watch it build; to see it again from start to finish. Maybe then it will stop plaguing me."

Damn it all to hell, whatever he was asking, Yuki was still a kid! What Itaru wanted to do to him—would undoubtedly be unable to stop himself from doing the moment he opened the floodgate even a crack... It just wasn't all right.

"What—exactly—are you asking?" he insisted.

"It's simple. Have another orgasm for me."

"I...can't. Let me go, Yuki."

Even he didn't know he had those words left in him until they were out.

*

Infuriated by the rejection, Yuki shoved Itaru hard. The man barely budged.

How could he stand there with Yuki touching him so boldly and pretend he had any kind of morals or ethics? Yuki had heard him, plain as day! He'd seen Itaru get off with a name he now knew was his own tumbling from those perverted lips. Sure, it had bothered him at first. He was embarrassed. He hadn't been ready to witness such a thing. 

What was more, he'd never imagined that a man like Itaru might see him in that light, let alone...

"Don't tell me you can't get it up again. You're not that old," he needled, resorting to spite while he tried to figure out what he wanted and how to get there.

"That's not the problem!" Itaru snapped, his pride barrier breached. "I just can't do that. Not in front of a kid."

The word caused Yuki to physically recoil. "Is that how you see me? A kid?" He fought to keep any sort of whine out of his voice but there was no eradicating the defensive tone.

Hearing the hurt, Itaru's eyes softened. When he spoke, it was a hesitant confession.

"I wish I did."

"How, then?" Yuki asked, truly wishing to know exactly what Itaru thought of him.

Backing up a step, Itaru took a deep breath. "You're delicate, like a doll, and that makes me want to break you," he said in a flat tone that darkened dangerously as he spoke. He backed up again, as if the distance would protect them both from his words. "You're as beautiful as any of my favorite female characters and still full of masculine attitude, and that makes me want to violate you." He backed up again, and this time, his voice trembled and cracked. "You're my worst fantasy... and my best."

Yuki trembled with the passing of a cool breeze over skin that was flushed and heated. Every word Itaru spoke stoked a fire in his lower body that melded discomfort with pleasant tingling and a feeling of restriction. At his age, he got hard all the time, but never like this. Itaru's words frightened him a little but that very fear also excited him.

"I could be a reality," he whispered, before his better sense could interfere. 

''It's not a question of consent," Itaru whispered back, licking dry lips. "You're still a kid...and I'm still dangerous. Don't you get that? You're like a rabbit hopping into a fox's lap."

"Bad metaphor," Yuki grumbled. He advanced quickly, and pressed up against Itaru so that his own state of arousal was clear. "I Iike foxes."

Itaru made a strangled growl. "I'll give you one chance to run for it...but first, I guess I'll have to show you what you should run from."

Yuki didn't know what hit him. One moment he had Itaru backed up against a tree in the courtyard, and the next, his world was spinning as he fell into Itaru's computer chair, and he was fighting to breathe with an aggressive tongue plunging down his throat. He tried to twitch away from the fingers rolling and pinching his nipple, and only ended up baring his throat to a grasping fist.

Gasping for air, Yuki battled an alien wave of fear. He told himself that this was Itaru, a man he knew, who was kind and clever...but it was becoming apparent that he didn't know Itaru at all.

The terrifying thing was that his body, at least, seemed thoroughly intrigued by this ravishing stranger. Underlying the fear was a depth of excitement Yuki had never known.

This carnivore—this fox in rabbit's clothing—harbored a secret desire for Yuki, and it was so very powerful. How could he not be flattered? He was young and inexperienced. There was nothing sexy about him. His girly looks clashed with his inelegant temper. What could a man like Itaru see in him?

He moaned, the sound constricted and his Adam's apple bobbing against Itaru's palm. His body jerked as a pinch sent electricity zipping from nipple to groin.

Was this what Itaru meant by saying he was dangerous? Did he have some kind of kink for rough play? Yuki didn't know yet what he liked, and what he didn't, but maybe he could be what Itaru desired after all. This wasn't so bad. He was actually kind of into it...

The force of Itaru's tongue licking his cheek turned Yuki's face aside. This bestial nature was so unexpected...

What had he expected then? Not rose petals and sweetly whispered nothings. Not wordless posturing and rough motions. Not shy stammering and hesitant strokes. No, the more he thought about it, this passionate aggression was not far off from what he might have fantasized, had the thought to do so occurred to him.

Pajama-clad for a late-night sewing session, Yuki hadn't thought to be self conscious when storming in to wrangle Itaru to his needs. Now, he suddenly realized he was un-showered, his hair clipped up haphazardly, and his legs unshaved.

"Wait," he gasped, not sure what he meant to propose to the contrary.

Itaru ignored him. He'd been warned, and he had disregarded the consideration. 

In a matter of moments, he found himself red with shame as Itaru pulled down his pajama pants to reveal his slightly sweaty crotch lined with silk. The moan that greeted his ears only inflamed his embarrassment, but Itaru didn't pause to give him a chance to complain.

Yuki squeaked and then groaned as his erection was swallowed whole, sucked upon hard, and swished back and forth across an adventurous tongue. His heated cheeks became a rush of fever and his head lolled back into the cushioned computer chair as his fingers threaded into Itaru's hair.

Only when Itaru grunted around him, sending vibrations through his nerves, did he realize the nerd had a hand stuffed into his own tracksuit pants, pumping furiously. The sight was his undoing, and Yuki arched violently, ramming himself deeper into Itaru's maw as he came hard.

It took a while for the tingling to subside, and for the cloud that fogged his brain to dissipate. He simply watched through lidded eyes as Itaru knelt before him, pants now bared past his hips, thrusting up into his stroking palm. He was staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed, bringing home the realization of what a sight Yuki must make, disheveled and unguarded, weak with lethargy after cumming, still a mess... 

Yuki couldn't bring himself to be bothered. He was too taken with the fulfilling of his demand. Itaru was going to cum for him again, just as he had asked. He didn't want to miss the moment.

Thus, he stayed impeccably still, half slouched in the chair with his pajamas around his knees and his limbs sprawled. He watched, rapt, as Itaru's eyes clouded over.  

"Yuki... Yuki," rasped the gamer, until his throat closed with the onset of orgasm and he could only grunt brokenly, his eyes fluttering and his abs flexing. Two short spurts were all he could achieve, but the moment was forever burned into Yuki's memory.

He took it with him when he left Itaru there on the floor, fixing himself up and retreating wordlessly. He abandoned his work for the night and went straight to bed, carrying the memory into sleep, where he could better process all that had passed.

*

For Itaru, it was a morning like any other. He put on his costume, a pristine suit, and headed out to the set of his make-believe career. It was easy to put the events of the previous night aside because he was used to pretending he was something he was not.

The day was not so easy for Yuki, who was jumpy and self-conscious all through P.E., and only fell into deeper distraction by the time school let out. He went straight back to the dorm and attempted to do some sewing, but he had to redo a button three times before he could admit he was incapable of focusing.

Tossing down the vest in frustration, he strode to Itaru's room, still in uniform. Of course, it was still too early for Itaru to be home.

On a whim, Yuki entered the room anyway, closing the door quietly behind him, and looked around at the nerdy paraphernalia that lined the place. There was so much of Itaru in this room, and Yuki wanted to know him better. If he could just learn more about the dark side Itaru worked so hard to hide, maybe he would be better equipped to understand the feelings that had taken root in his own gut.

Hesitantly, he began to explore. He rifled through game titles and goods, and even recognized a few characters. It wasn't unusual for him to take inspiration from such artwork for his designs. One or two, he'd even gotten into himself for a bit.

Time wore on as he studied the artifacts that made up Itaru's life, but the business man didn't show up. After a while, Yuki picked up a handheld console to kill the time and settled in to play until Itaru came home, hoping to clear things up.

*

Avoiding the dorm, Itaru took up an invitation to go drinking with his manager. It was the kind of obligatory invitation he usually turned down so he could capitalize on gaming hours, but it was also a good enough excuse to stay away from the home he shared with Yuki until last train. By then, the school kid would surely be wrapped safe and snug in his bed, and Itaru wouldn't have to face his demons just yet.

He'd been drinking, but his advanced state of inebriation was mostly an act. He'd stopped drinking heavily that time he dumped a month's salary into a gacha game at a drunken 2am stuck out in Shinjuku.

His tie was off, his jacket slung over his shoulder, and he was working on his shirt buttons when he slipped into his room. He was just buzzed enough not to twig that the light was on, his attention diverted downward to his fumbling fingers. He only glanced up at the last second before flinging his jacket, and barely caught himself from burying sleeping beauty under its silken lining.

Every wet dream Itaru had ever had paled in comparison to the sordid image that greeted him. Decked out in his school girl uniform, Yuki was fast asleep in the same chair in which he had been molested the night before. With one knee raised and painted toes curled over the edge of the seat, his pale yellow, cotton panties were on display—not to mention the accessories spilling out of them. Cradled in his upturned skirt was a Vita, screen blank with sleep. In moments, Itaru was lugging around a rock in his trousers and he moaned aloud, leaning back heavily against the door.

Briefcase and jacket slipped from his fingers, and he stood there for a moment, fighting off the heat coursing through his veins...but it was too much. His hand was stuffing itself under his belt before he could act on his better sensibilities.

The grunts and moans he couldn't stifle must have been as loud as they felt, because Yuki cracked an eyelid. As he pried the other eye open, his gaze quickly darkened, and all Itaru could do was shake his head.

"Not this time," Yuki growled. 

The console in his lap skittered to the floor as he jumped up and stormed over to Itaru. Yanking the hand free of Itaru's pants, he then dragged the older man across the room and pushed him into the chair. Then, as if he didn't know better, he climbed up onto Itaru's lap, straddling a throbbing bulge and trapping the degenerate who had lost the ability to think, speak, or act.

"You're all mussed up! Have you been drinking? What time is it?" Grabbing Itaru's wrist, he read the block number on the digital face. "Nearly 1am? It's a work night! Who...? Who were you with?"

"My manager, and some coworkers from an adjacent department," Itaru responded with quiet honesty. ''It was just schmoozing. Networking."

"You never do that sort of thing."

"I do. Once in a while."

"You were avoiding me," Yuki observed, his voice thick with disappointment.

None of the excuses that haphazardly crossed Itaru's mind were fit to speak. He was tired, and suddenly sad that he had brought this dilemma between them.

''Only because I care about you," he whispered. "You deserve an awkward, bumbling romance with a classmate, or a fresh fling with a fellow fashionista. I know I went the wrong way about deterring you. I got too selfish to do it right in the end, but you have to see you can do better than a depraved, obsessive, closet geek with a questionable code of ethics."

"Obviously," Yuki snorted. "But just because I could make a coat out of cashmere doesn't mean I have to."

"Huh?"

"I'm saying, polyester works just fine, and it comes in much more interesting colors, and...damn it, you crazy gamer! Don't you get it? I want you, not some lame, kiddy crush!"

"Don't be-"

"Shut up. You're going to listen until I'm done. You're a pervert, and god only knows what weird kinks you're hiding, but you're smart and funny, and ambitious, and reliable when it comes down to it. The act you put on is too perfect to be entirely fake, and even if it was, I... I find that kind of sexy, to be honest. I like that there's a side of you most people don't get to see, and that your guiltiest secret...is me. I don't need to overthink things, and you need to stop doing that before we both go nuts. I get it. There's a huge gap in experience, but an even bigger one in maturity, because let's face it, I'm clearly the responsible one here... But I don't want to be. Not in this. Just this once, can't we do the irresponsible thing and see where this goes?"

"Yuki-"

"I said-"

"No. I need to make myself clear. I know exactly where this goes. I'm not going to coddle you and lie awake at night all tortured with need until you're ready to go the next step. I'm not going to dote on you and take you out on cute dates for pair rings and parfaits. You give me the chance and I'm going to screw you senseless, and then some. I'm going to ravage you whenever we're alone, like some kind of custom made sex doll. I'm going to act out all my fantasies and explore every-"

Itaru would have gone on, but it was hard to talk around the second tongue jammed into his mouth. While it wasn't all strictly truth, that rant had him on the verge of frenzy, and Yuki was only exacerbating the matter. The next thing Itaru knew, they were grinding frantically, Yuki rubbing against him like a critter in heat.

"I'm starting to think it really turns me on when you go all alpha," Yuki panted. "Bottom line is...it's my choice."

"That's not how the law works," Itaru groaned, supporting Yuki's hips and thrusting up against him none-the-less.

"Screw the law. I decide when I'm ready and with who." He suddenly stilled, and a bereft chill swept through Itaru's whole frame in the wake of the heated friction. He could only take in a slow, deep breath as Yuki cupped his cheeks in two dainty hands. "I know you're scared you'll lose control, but you don't have to worry. When was the last time you got your way with me?"

Never. Costume ideas, fittings, minor choices among their daily lives... Yuki had the last word every time.

"You won't hurt me, Itaru. You won't cross any line I set," he insisted. "Otherwise, we would be long past this conversation already."

"I'm not a saint," Itaru gasped, desperate for Yuki to understand.

"I never said I wanted you to be," Yuki responded. Rising up, he slipped his yellow panties down to his knees and rubbed his bare scrotum over alarmingly tight trousers, even as he worked open the buckle that penned Itaru in. 

"Yuki, no! Once we cross that line-!"

"Exactly, so let's get it over with and then we can skip ahead to dealing with what's on the other side! Now what's that stuff you're supposed to use? Right. Lube. Got any of that?"

Business-like, Yuki took the fake tube of hand cream Itaru produced from the desk drawer within reach. He squeezed some onto his fingertips, rubbing it with his thumb to test the consistency, then sniffed it.

"Cherry," he muttered.

"It reminds me of you, somehow," Itaru confessed.

"I've smelled this on you before," Yuki said, eyes narrowing.

"I'm not surprised," Itaru agreed, holding out his hand for Yuki to slick up. After spreading the cherry-scented substance over his fingers, he reached around so that the crook of his elbow sat on Yuki's slightly curved hip.

"Last chance," he offered.

"Go on," Yuki encouraged.

Biting his lip, Itaru felt a little dribble of pre-cum spill against his underwear as he pressed his slick fingers against the pucker that represented his eternal damnation. As the first finger began to breach that sanctum, his other hand trailed down Yuki's beautiful face, then clutched at the pristine white of his uniform shirt. After he wormed his finger deeper, Yuki began grinding lightly into him again, and the sordid excitement proved too much. With an uncontrolled jerk, Itaru came a little. In that moment, he began gently fucking Yuki's ass with one finger, causing the brat to squirm.

"Did you just...?"

"A little. Don't fret. There's plenty more where that came from."

Hastened some, Itaru began cramming in his second finger and working the two in ways that would help his adult girth fit inside without too much pain. Hopefully, none at all.

Yuki began turning red, the stain creeping up his neck and into his face. He propped his forehead against Itaru's, panting lightly. "God that feels weird," he commented. 

"Lube me up," Itaru whispered. "I'll make you feel real good in a moment."

Yuki did as asked, first freeing Itaru from his trousers with trembling hands and then spreading lube over a slightly soiled length. He took a moment to feel out the size and shape of Itaru's cock in his hand, a hint of fascination in his eyes.

Scissoring Yuki wide open, Itaru lined the head of his cock up between his straining fingers. Without further ado, he eased it in as he drew his fingers out. The trick helped him breach the initial clamp of Yuki's virginal ring, and allowed him to inch deeper, slowly but surely. Holding his arms in a death grip, Yuki made a bouquet of tiny sounds that chipped away at Itaru's straining self-control.

"Is this really happening?" Itaru breathed, gazing up at the cynical little angel looming over him.

"It better be," Yuki growled, his eyes closed and his cheeks bright red. ''Try and take this back now and I'll stab you in the face with a sewing needle."

Itaru didn't have the guts to confess the rush of excitement he got from Yuki's threat. He was well and truly messed up.

"I won't," he whispered, running his dry hand down Yuki's silky hair. "I'm too selfish."

He lurched up to close the distance between their lips, kissing Yuki softly while he set his hips to work. Yuki, in turn, held onto him and continued making precious, tiny sounds. He soon wound his arms about Itaru's neck and broke the kiss, gasping into Itaru's hair.

"T-touch me," he implored.

How remiss Itaru had been, so caught up in the actualization of his sordid fantasy! Gladly, he reached under Yuki's skirt and pressed his palm against the hard length there, rubbing firmly in time with his rolling hips.

Yuki got louder and began driving the pace, levering himself up and down on slim thighs. If Itaru had harbored any doubt that the pleasure was mutual, it was blown away by the words and phrases beginning to trickle from Yuki's lips. He probably wouldn't last much longer.

Sustained by his little pre-game, Itaru had been focused in on Yuki and documenting the experience in his mind in case it never happened again, but now he let himself feel. The tight heat, the friction, the fluctuating pressure as Yuki's lower body undulated against him... The breath at his ear, the fingers digging into his neck...

"Together," he grunted, clenching his thighs and feeling the pressure rise. He wanted them both to cum at the same moment. It wasn't so hard. It was like timing your moves so you'd build up to a limit break just at the right moment for maximum impact.

The moment he felt Yuki's body go rigid, Itaru thrust up hard and then relaxed his clenched muscles, immediately releasing his load into Yuki even as the boy jerked and shook, staining the underside of his skirt. Itaru kept stroking, sliding his fingers through the mess until Yuki slumped against him, panting.

"Now we're even," Yuki sighed, adorably languid post-orgasm. "Next time...can we do it on the bed, though? My knees are gonna be all red."

"Can't have that now," Itaru said, straining to keep a slightly manic laugh at bay. "Red knees... What would your teachers say?"

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," Yuki grumbled, slowly sitting up and brushing the hair out of his face.

Meanwhile, Itaru's face drained of blood. "W-what?" Had he misjudged? Had Yuki...?

"I'm always kneeling over fabrics and cutting out patterns. What did you...? Ugh! You pervert!"

He was right, and the automatic recoil was probably a good instinct. One sentence and Itaru was imagining Yuki on his knees, clutching at folds of forgotten costume fabric beneath him as Itaru pounded him hard. Two things were certain... He was indeed a rotten pervert, and he'd gotten absolutely nothing out of his system.

"You bring out the worst in me, Rurikawa, Yuki," he said. "I guess you'll just have to take responsibility."

"Hmph. Well someone has to. Fine. Up. Time to shower, and then bed—and no funny business. You have work tomorrow and I have morning rehearsal before school." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be too hard on Itaru. Yuki holds all the power in this relationship.


	2. Not a Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakyo/Azuma
> 
> A study of the emotional power of silence.

Sakyo came home to a peaceful scene of strange companions. While there was little conversation, the air was comfortable and welcoming. 

Knees tucked under him, Rurikawa sat at the edge of the sofa beside Chigasaki. He was quietly sewing sequins onto a strip of cloth, deftly as ever. He was so absorbed in his work, he was almost leaning on Itaru, who was tapping with strategic urgency on the screen of his phone. A can of beer was clutched in the gamer's right hand and his ring finger was outstretched to work the screen while he held the phone in his left. His dexterity was a point of interest.

On the other arm of the sofa lounged Yukishiro, calmly watching the two of them and swigging from his own can of beer. He raised it to Sakyo upon spotting him and gestured at the three remaining cans of what had been a six-pack.

Tempted, Sakyo shrugged off his coat and headed to the sofa to partake. Just as he sat, Chigasaki let out a triumphant noise and knocked back the remainder of his beer. He crushed the can and rose in one swift motion, dislodging a rather disgruntled Rurikawa.

Yukishiro leaned forward with surprising urgency. "Going to bed already?" he asked.

Sakyo eyed him askance, curious at the note of desperation in his tone.

Chigasaki was oblivious. "Not a chance. I'm gonna be up for hours securing my ranking in this event so I can stay on top while I'm at the office. Even smokers can only take so many breaks..."

"You don't smoke," pointed out Rurikawa, dryly. He was clearly unimpressed at his concentration having been disturbed.

"And if anyone at work ever figures that out, I'll have to start over at a new job," complained Chigasaki, ruffling Rurikawa's hair in silent apology.

Un-appeased, Rurikawa resettled himself and coldly turned his eyes to his work once more. "I'm amazed you still have a job at all," he commented with over-exaggerated apathy.

Chigasaki simply laughed as he departed. "I'm good at the Game of Life, too!"

''Sakyo, you'll stay up with me a little longer, won't you?" asked Azuma, turning his hopeful doe-eyes upon the reformed yakuza.

"One drink," Sakyo agreed. "But I have a production meeting early tomorrow with the director. Rurikawa, you ought to be heading to bed soon yourself," he added for good measure, frowning at the hard-working school boy-cum-costumer.

"Of course," Yukishiro agreed easily, though his disappointment was palpable.

"I'm nearly done," Rurikawa mumbled, though there was something about the way he said it that gave Sakyo the curious impression that he was unsatisfied with that fact.

The three sat in companionable silence, drinking and sewing alternatively. Sakyo appreciated the quiet time but he was surprised at the swift plunge back into a lack of conversation after Yukishiro's insistent plea for company.

Yukishiro seemed incredibly relaxed, though, so he didn't dwell on it too much. There was something soothing in his presence that allowed Sakyo to sink back into the cushions, enjoy the tasty tang of beer, and reflect on his group's last rehearsal.

Even he was almost disappointed when Rurikawa announced the completion of his task and uncurled, rising to his feet. It was as good a cue as any. Sakyo was already sipping at dregs. For a brief moment, he considered taking the last can for himself and staying a little longer since Yukishiro seemed only halfway through his own can, but he didn't like the idea of facing the director with a hangover first thing in the morning.

He said his farewells and followed Rurikawa from the room with one last glance back at Yukishiro. What he saw stayed with him.

*

The halls were quiet. Those rehearsing in the morning and getting up for school were either tucked snugly into their beds or, in a few particular cases, about their business elsewhere. Those with later starts were out and about...or in Mikage's case, out like a light.

Sakyo was oddly grateful for the absence of witnesses as he approached Yukishiro's door. Not that he had any intentions that would warrant disapproval, but misunderstandings abounded where Yukishiro was concerned.

As it was, Sakyo was worried. There was something off about the way Yukishiro seemed so desperate for company, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it in the interest of harmony.

Sakyo waited after a quiet knock. There was no reaction. He knocked again, too loudly this time in his want to be heard. 

"Come in," came the response. A slight drawl to the tone gave Sakyo pause.

He wet his lips as he worked the handle, then inwardly scolded himself for the silly turn. As a result, he was sighing tiredly when he opened the door on a vision of Yukishiro stretched out on his sofa, his fingers rising lightly up an obvious bulge in his thin pajama pants. His right arm pillowed his head and he seemed perfectly at ease being caught casually fondling himself.

The instinct to retreat asserted itself but Sakyo tamped it down. If Yukishiro didn't have a problem, why should he? He'd come here for good reason. 

Taking the pretty man's lazy stare as a challenge, he approached without a word and perched on the edge of the seat, his hip couched against Yukishiro's thigh. He looked pointedly at the fingers still tickling the outline of a solid erection, then dragged his eyes back to Yukishiro's and continued to stare silently.

Without much thought, he reached out to take over, running his hand over the hardness trapped tightly against the fabric and squeezing. Massaging gently yet firmly, he continued gazing directly into hazel eyes so changed by lust as to glimmer a burnished gold.

As if in consent, Yukishiro's hand—displaced by Sakyo's—drifted to the yakuza's knee. The gesture was confirmation enough and Sakyo put his concerns out of his mind for the moment. The silent communication seemed to be in line with Yukishiro's wishes, and he was already trapped in the man's beautiful eyes. He slowly leaned down to kiss slightly parted, petal-pink lips. In that moment, he began to think of the man he was kissing by the more intimate name.

Kissing Azuma was easy, unlike any other kiss he had ever experienced in his life. Their lips merged and shifted, the sensation of it travelling down Sakyo's jaw and throat, and tingling through his body. His tongue traced the hills and valleys of Azuma's lips and then dipped between them. Azuma's tongue caressed his own and he was pulled in deeper.

As the kiss continued down a path of gradual intensification, Sakyo dragged his fingers up to the hem of Azuma's thin track pants and slipped them inside. He slid his whole palm down the length of Azuma's erection and gripped as he pulled up again, beginning an uneven rhythm that crested and soothed in response to the kiss.

Eventually, he broke the seal, pulling his lips from Azuma's soft, plump buds with a gasp of regret. Lips still tingling, he dragged the hem of the loose grey shirt up, following it with his tongue. When his lips brushed skin again, he shivered. There was a taste to Azuma with a hint of sweetness and he lapped it up, wrapping his mouth about one rose-bud nipple with relish and drawing it deeper between his teeth, swirling his tongue about the tip as it hardened between his lips. His fingers found the other bud, rubbing and flicking even as he continued to stroke Azuma's hard length. 

A moan encouraged him, and Azuma's torso arched and stretched, seeking more warmth. With a smirk, Sakyo extricated his hand and traded places with his mouth, tweaking the nipple, after tugging Azuma's pants down toward his thighs. He rolled the two stiff nipples in tandem as he kissed his way down to the prize he found himself longing to taste.

He hefted the length with his tongue, bringing his lips to the soft, loose skin enveloping sensitive flesh. Thin, firm, and a little longer than his own appendage, Azuma's length was responsive, bobbing and twitching in enthusiasm at the drag of tongue and lips along one side.

A voiced exhale provided wordless demand and Sakyo heeded the unspoken request, taking Azuma fully into his mouth and working the tip in and out, sheathed by lips and cheeks, balanced and guided by the tip of a tongue.

The sounds that reached his ears were encouraging and he raised the pace, bringing his left hand down to grasp the base and hold Azuma's squirming hips steady. He began bobbing fast, relishing the silken texture against his flattened tongue.

When a weight came down on his head and trimmed nails burrowed into his hair, he almost purred at the sensation, and easily gave over control, holding still as Azuma bucked into his mouth and thrust toward his throat. He breathed through his nose and fought the urge to gag, focusing on the heady musk that filled his nostrils and the salty tang leaking over his taste buds.

The erotic grunts that warned of Azuma's imminent climax were so sexy his own groin clenched moments before liquid heat erupted down his throat, around his gums, and leaked out the corner of his mouth. He caught that with his thumb and sucked the digit clean, gulping down air as he sat up.

He looked down at Azuma, who panted and gazed intensely back up at him through slitted eyes, and he realized he'd found an answer of sorts without ever uttering the question. With a smirk, Sakyo unfurled from his crouch on the sofa, adjusting his clothes as he stood.

He turned his back and walked to the door, pausing wordlessly to fully calm his breathing before he exited the room. He softly closed the door behind him and returned to the private sanctum of his own room.

If he was slightly giddy with the excitement of the illicit encounter and the throb of his own arousal, no-one else was the wiser and he certainly wouldn't admit it to himself. He felt a strange kind of elation at knowing he had helped to calm some of the turmoil in Azuma, though he didn't quite understand why. Part of him wanted to go back immediately and find out, but he knew instinctively that prying would not be welcome.

Taking a quick shower, Sakyo relieved himself before bed, grateful that he didn't share a room.

*

There wasn't a hint of awkwardness over dinner. If anything, Azuma was more amiable than ever and Sakyo was in a bright enough mood to provide plenty of banter with Fushimi and Minagi. 

A slight incident over dessert had Azuma chuckling quietly before he easily solved the mystery of Hyodo's pudding thief. He seemed to be in high spirits.

"Honestly, what did he expect?" Sakyo grumbled. "Marshmallow flavored pudding with a marshmallow base! Anyone with half a brain could guess that Mikage would hunt that down and guzzle it without pause."

"Jyuza's sweet," Azuma crooned. "He thinks the best of everyone."

"Except Setsu," sighed Fushimi.

"Indeed," Sakyo comiserated.

"How are you going with the current script?" Fushimi asked, taking a sip of the red dessert wine he had poured for the adults present after dinner. "You've got a lot of long lines. Need a hand running them?"

"Thank you, but I have most of them down already. I plan to stay up and drill the beats tonight, seeing as I have no plans in the morning," he dangled, tasting the wine. It was a bit sweet for his palate, but somehow befitting of his mood.

Once again, there was a great deal of companionable silence as Miyoshi had gone off to work on a flyer and Arisugawa had chased after Hyodo to prevent Mikage from coming to harm. Azuma leaned back, cradling his wine glass, his eyes trained on Sakyo in observation.

When Fushimi excused himself, Sakyo made a point of staying put. It was Azuma who decided to leave first, bidding Sakyo a good night. Sakyo watched him go, glad that he had been able to give his time to a good cause. 

Finishing off his second glass of wine, Sakyo poured one more and took it with him to his room, where he took out his script and began running through the emotional shifts, drilling the lines where something changed. He grew rather absorbed in the task and it was past midnight before he knew it. 

After running his lines twice more, he slipped into his silk robe and retired to bed. He was just growing drowsy when there was a click and a shuffle of sound.

In the dark, he couldn't make out much, but it was clear who had come to join him when they clambered up the ladder and crawled under his blanket without a word, curling up against his chest. Cradling a head of long, soft hair, Sakyo was claimed by sleep almost immediately.

*

With the sun's rising, Sakyo's eyes drifted open of their own accord. He had slept uncommonly well, yet he didn't feel the usual drowsiness that so oddly came after a full night's rest.

He felt good—actually rested. Never-the-less, he stayed put, enjoying the sensation of Azuma's breath rising and falling against him as the exquisitely beautiful man slept peacefully on. When he finally stirred an hour later, Sakyo had been lulled to sleepiness and watched lazily as Azuma extricated himself with a yawn, sat up in bed, and stretched, revealing a band of skin below the rising hem of his shirt as his fingertips skimmed the ceiling.

When he caught Sakyo observing him, he grinned coquettishly and grasped the hem, wriggling out of the shirt and shaking his glorious white mane free. Next, he hooked his thumbs into the loose tracksuit pants he had slept in and squirmed free.

It was cuter than it was sexy, but Sakyo still had a lump in his throat...and one to match below the waist. He parted his lips, searching for something appropriate to say to the man he wanted to pin down and have his way with, but Azuma outmaneuvered him, pressing the underside of a long, soft index finger to his lips, then kissing him sensually. As Azuma clambered atop him, Sakyo let out a wordless groan. What had he done to deserve the attentions of this Eros in the flesh?

Unhurried and confident, Azuma went about releasing Sakyo from the loose trapping of his robe, kissing and nibbling what felt like every inch of flesh down Sakyo's torso. By the time he was taken into Azuma's mouth, Sakyo was feverishly hot and already leaking at the tip.

Azuma seemed to like it. He sucked lightly, swirling his tongue and lapping up the secretion. That very enthusiasm only turned Sakyo on even more.

He'd thought about it. Who hadn't? Azuma's lips and that perfect mouth fastened about his cock, those coy eyes glancing up at him to gauge his reaction while lithe fingers tucked a fall of silver back behind his ear...

The reality far eclipsed the fantasy, and Sakyo had to halt Azuma with a wordless grunt, clamping a hand to the back of his neck and guiding him away. Tilting his head curiously, Azuma just smiled softly and slid his hands up Sakyo's body, moving to straddle trembling thighs.

His gaze grew intense as he dragged his tight ass up over Sakyo's bare crotch and then back down. When he repeated the action, Sakyo made to protest, but Azuma kissed him, grinding until he reached a premature release.

It was only a preview of things to come, just a small percentage of the intense lust stored up in his loins, but it felt amazing, for all his resistance. Sakyo had never before experienced such a short and controlled climax, and it brought embarrassing heat to his cheeks.

He held his tongue. There was no point in excuses when Azuma had clearly gotten exactly what he wanted. He meant to draw this out, and Sakyo wasn't exactly opposed, despite his embarrassment at having been manipulated.

Before he knew what was happening, Azuma had Sakyo's cock propped up at the tiny, inviting entrance that was surely the fantasy of many a man. With a little sigh, and the most erotic neckline to his backward tilted head, Azuma impaled himself. There was so little hesitation or show of pain that Sakyo lay stunned, belatedly registering the thrilling heat that now encompassed him. Guiltily, he contemplated that Azuma seemed made for this very act.

Panting gently, the man began to ride him, sitting up straight and working his thighs, hands hanging limply by his sides. Sakyo let him adjust, gritting his teeth with the effort to remain still.

He knew Azuma was ready when the man smiled beatifically, and habitually tucked a fall of hair behind his ear. That was also when Sakyo lost his restraint completely, taking hold of Azuma's hips and driving him skyward. The erotic sounds that fell from Azuma's lips were almost as delectable as the tight sheathe of his ass. Sakyo was in nirvana.

So, it seemed, was Azuma. Catching Sakyo by surprise, the man riding him suddenly seized up, clamping hard around him and spurting a small jet of semen which splashed back down over his persistent erection and Sakyo's abdomen.

So that was why Azuma had made him cum first. This was going to be a long ride.

Stilling his hips, Sakyo ran his fingers up the underside of Azuma's pretty, snow-capped cock. He then maneuvered upright, holding Azuma close and bending his own knees under himself.

He kissed Azuma's long, swan-like neck as he held the man's back, resuming the thrusting motions that made his lover whimper and gasp. The roof now sat just over Azuma's head and he reached up, bracing himself to push back down onto Sakyo's rising pole.

A flinch and a heavy groan indicated that Sakyo had struck gold, and then Azuma was kissing him whilst trembling and jerking in his arms. Tongues still dancing, Azuma slid free of Sakyo's rigid length and lay back on the bed, pulling Sakyo down on top of him.

Still, Sakyo could feel the stiffness of Azuma's length poking him, and after a moment to catch his breath, Azuma rolled onto his belly, using his body to push Sakyo upright behind his crawling frame.

With a growl of pure lust, Sakyo grasped slim hips, and then slammed his cock home again. He'd never felt this kind of aggressive need before, as if he had to wring Azuma dry of every last drop or he would somehow fail as a man.

He bent low, his mid-section brushing Azuma's back, and let his hips drive determinedly into his quarry, again and again. His grunts and growls sounded right beside Azuma's ear, and as he felt his loins growing tight and urgently full, he reached for the dangling erection slapping rhythmically against Azuma's thighs. He'd barely wrapped his fingers around it when he reached his limit and his cock erupted with the force of a geyser, filling Azuma up with his essence, even as he pumped furiously with his grasping fist.

To his gratification, Azuma's arms gave out and he shuddered out his final release into the mattress, his whole body trembling and spasming.

There would be no lazy entanglement in the afterglow, no light pillow talk—not on these sheets. Instead, Sakyo hauled Azuma upright against him, again kissing the soft skin of a long neck, head lolling slightly in boneless satiation.

With regret, Sakyo clambered down to the floor and then helped Azuma disembark, clothes clutched and crumpled in one hand. He regained enough strength to raise his finger to Sakyo's lips again and lean in for a light kiss, even as he shimmied into his pants. The shirt, he donned backward and inside out on his way to the door, but with a wink and a touch to his lips blown on a breath, he was gone before Sakyo could warn him.

From the hall, Setsu's voice rose in greeting, met by a twinkle of laughter, and then the door finished swinging shut, leaving Sakyo bemused and a little stunned, as if emerging from a trance.

Azuma was like a strange, fae creature with the power to spin dialogues of silence and epic poetry of actions. What he sought in a straightforward brute like Sakyo was a mystery...and would likely remain so.


	3. Off Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuzuru/Masumi
> 
> A study on unexpected developments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened here. How? Why? Who did this?
> 
> On another note, been on a bit of a Pern kick, lately. (Sorrynotsorry)

Tsuzuru stared at the page, the corners of his mouth turned down in a stubborn frown. He positively wished he had writer’s block. As it was, he had been overflowing with ideas that desperately wanted to resolve themselves into a romance...between two male characters...based on he and Masumi. Unable to concentrate on the script he really needed to be writing, he had decided to just let the words flow and get them out of his system so that he could move on. What bothered him most was that it was a great script.  
   
Inspired by a certain sci-fi series, the plot focused on two dragonriders—one a green rider, and one a blue. Frankly, reading that series had been a big mistake, because ever since he noted how prickly Masumi was the epitome of a green rider, and how he himself would be perfect for a quick, calm blue...he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened when blues and greens mated. In this universe, riders and their dragons had a certain telepathic connection, and when two dragons took a mating flight together, the effect on their riders was...dramatic.  
   
It hadn’t taken long for Tsuzuru to catch onto the fact that riders of both the male blues and female greens were all men, and what that meant in terms of the mating ritual. Pairing that thought with his approximations of his and Masumi’s dragon partners...  
   
Well, this script was the result. The other characters consisted of a Journeyman harper based on Sakuya, Itaru as the bronze-riding Weyrleader, and Citron as a Lord Holder from a province beholden to the Weyr, the dragons and their riders who protected the planet. Frankly, those roles and their parts in the script were somewhat of an afterthought, because again and again, Tsuzuru’s focus returned to the roles intended for he and Masumi...and what took place offstage between scenes that scandalized the Lord Holder and prompted the harper to write an amusing limerick.  
   
This was one script Tsuzuru never meant to see the light of day, let alone the bright-hot lights of the stage. He could just imagine Masumi’s reaction to the implications that surely wouldn’t go over the high school boy’s clever head.  
   
Ever since the two of them had begun sharing a dorm room together, Tsuzuru had treated Masumi as just another little brother. Rooming together with anyone probably would have had the same result, but with Masumi’s sometimes childish personality and the way that often rubbed Tsuzuru up the wrong way, the bickering between them was all too familiarly familial. That, however, was exactly why it struck Tsuzuru so remarkably whenever Masumi’s underlying maturity came to the fore. There was something in the younger actor that Tsuzuru’s brothers had never displayed; something manly, deep, and admirable. At the oddest moments, Masumi awoke Tsuzuru’s interest in a way the likes of his brothers never could, and that paradox was confusing. Now and again, Tsuzuru's confusion bordered on unforgiveable certainty. After all, Masumi was still in high school. He really was a little brother in terms of age and standing. It just wasn’t right to think of him like... Like... Like a sensual green rider on the cusp of going into heat.  
   
There it was again. Defeated, Tsuzuru snapped his laptop closed and lay his forehead down atop it. Behind his eyes flurried images of Masumi reaching for him, cheeks flushed and hair mussed, caught in an uncontrollable trance of lust and needing Tsuzuru to temper the storm...  
   
“Are you done?”  
   
The barely mildly interested, obligatory drawl in the same voice Tsuzuru had just heard moaning in his head caught him completely off guard. He shot up, ram-rod straight, praying it wasn’t obvious that other parts of him were just as vertical.  
   
“D-done?” he squeaked, blushing guiltily.  
   
“Yeah, dummy. The script.” An eye roll and a step closer, and then Tsuzuru’s laptop was floating above his head in Masumi’s hands, whirring back to life.  
   
Panicking, Tsuzuru realized he hadn’t closed the file.  
   
“‘M’sumi (Is that me?): Well, that was a wild ride...’ Mmmm?”  
   
Snatching the laptop out of Masumi’s hands, Tsuzuru slammed it closed and tucked it under his arm. “It’s not finished!” he cried, fleeing the room before the bright red glow of his cheeks could damn him.  
   
Even as he sought a private place to collect himself, he knew before even truly considering the option that deleting the script wasn't on the table. He was already attached to it, even if it was a fantasy scenario for him alone to enjoy.  
   
At least now, maybe he could get on with writing the real script. Maybe Sakuya's harper character was a good place to start, remodeled as a generic bard. The placeholder name of Yasuka would have to go, but he could probably rework the limerick to be more relevant to the new script...  
   
*  
   
School sucked. That was reason enough for Masumi to feign a headache and stay home for the day. That Tsuzuru was headed to work and had left his laptop behind because he had a stack of library books to return was just lucky.  
   
The thing was, Masumi was dying for another peek at that script he'd caught a glimpse of the other day. There wasn't much context to go by, but what little he'd seen before Tsuzuru got possessive had peaked his interest. Something about dragons... And Masumi was sure he had the wrong impression, but the few lines he'd caught had seemed a little...suggestive. That was...new. Tsuzuru didn't really do adult themes. That was the key inkling that made the rest of the script such a fascination to Masumi.  
   
The moment Tsuzuru was off, out the front door, Masumi went right to the dormant laptop on the playwright’s desk and lifted the screen. Whatever was in that script had prompted Tsuzuru to set a password to prevent just such snooping. Luckily, Masumi had been living with him long enough to have inadvertently learned all of his brothers' names. It was their combined initials that did the trick. Talk about amateur hour.  
   
The script was tucked away in a folder labelled just a little too honestly, "Write-offs". Masumi took a moment to consider the title: True Colors. Interesting, that. Then, he opened up the file and settled in the middle of the floor with the computer, getting comfortable on some cushions to read.  
   
It was obvious who the characters were based on because Tsuzuru had used placeholders derived from their names, so when he got to the part where the Weyrleader was speculating with the harper about how soon M'sumi's green would rise to mate, and whether or not the dragon's choice of partner would reflect the rider's, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Even if the mating flight was purely background information, it was quite obvious what had taken place in between one scene and the next. No wonder Tsuzuru had hidden this script. It had the two of them paired off all too blatantly.  
   
Frankly, if Tsuzuru hadn't reacted so drastically to Masumi laying eyes on the thing, the personal implications might have gone overlooked. As it was, Masumi was struck with the notion that, just maybe, Tsuzuru had put a lot more thought into what went on in that missing scene than was strictly necessary.  
   
Masumi kinda hoped so.  
   
*  
   
"Though Minath was a beauteous blue,  
He left his rider feeling so too,  
For every green that ever flew,  
Dear Minath said, 'She's not for you.'"  
   
The recited words lodged in Tsuzuru's brain and all but turned him to stone, right there in the doorway. He stared at Masumi, sitting on the floor atop a pile of cushions and reciting from memory the private lines Tsuzuru had written.  
   
How clever he'd thought himself; how poetic.  
   
"Then rose up Urth, a feisty green,  
Her rider boisterous M'sumi,  
T'suru watched as Minath preened,  
Then shot off fast as a golden queen."  
   
He didn't have to use names so like their own as placeholders. He did it because this was no ordinary script. It was simply a sordid fantasy disguised as art. The names both amused and aroused him.  
   
"The rest, they say, is history,  
For at the end of this story,  
No more blue balls, no green envy,  
No rest for amorous M'sumi."  
   
"I can explain," Tsuzuru rasped, his mouth utterly dry.  
   
He had every right to be furious. Masumi had intentionally violated his privacy and now chose to use what he had found to humiliate Tsuzuru. Yet, it was shame that was most prevalent.  
   
"I hope so," Masumi commented. "This needs way more exposition. Speaking of which, did you cast me as a girl? Am I gonna have to learn to tuck?"  
   
"Uh... Not quite," Tsuzuru commented, barely maintaining a thin veil of outward calm.  
   
"You gonna try out drag, then?" Masumi pressed.  
   
"Nobody's...trying out anything," Tsuzuru responded, tightly. "You weren't supposed to see that. No one was."  
   
"Whatever. I'm just curious, so fill me in. The green dragons are the girls, right? M'sumi-"  
   
"Is male," Tsuzuru snapped, then released a sigh of pent-up feeling. "Green riders are male."  
   
"Oh. Oh, I get it. Female dragon, male rider. So, then the blue riders..."  
   
"Also male," Tsuzuru supplied, resignedly waiting for the pieces to click.  
   
"But... When the dragons mate..."  
   
"So do their riders," Tsuzuru stated, matter-of-factly. He closed the door behind him and pulled his satchel bag over his head, dumping it down. "Usually. Well, sometimes. I could lend you the books if you wanna know more. It's complicated."  
   
"I don't think it is."  
   
Breaking his attempts at distraction, Tsuzuru stopped and stared at Masumi, observing the stormy gravity in the pretty boy's light grey eyes, now darkened. Suddenly he seemed way more furious than Tsuzuru had been led to believe.  
   
''It's just fiction," he gasped, grasping at straws. "Don't go reading anything into-"  
   
"You used our names, even though it's not a real script. Go on," Masumi challenged. "Tell me not to read into that."  
   
Tsuzuru disliked lying. He could only keep it up for so long before guilt set in and he caved.  
   
"Ok, so I thought about it...but it doesn't mean anything. You know that, right? When you live in close quarters, the thought is bound to cross your mind." A temptation tugged at Tsuzuru, and before awareness of it was even fully formed, he was already fishing. "I'll bet you've even thought about it, too...so...don't-"  
   
"I have," Masumi stated bluntly.  
   
"You... What?"  
   
The insinuation that it was such a normal thing that Masumi must have fantasized about his roommate in turn at some point was supposed to be a red herring planted to distract the boy. It wasn't really meant to lead to a confession. Maybe Tsuzuru had hoped a little, but he hadn't really believed...  
   
"I've thought about you like that," Masumi said with a straight face. "Plenty of times."  
   
"You...have? But... The director... Aren't you straight? You like her!"  
   
"Sure I do. I fell in love with her at first sight. She's the only woman for me; the only one I've ever been attracted to... But that's because I normally like guys."  
   
Blinking, as if he might awake when his eyelids parted, Tsuzuru was momentarily silenced. "Oh," he said, finally. "That's news."  
   
"Actually, it's pretty rare for me to be attracted to a guy, even," Masumi explained.  
   
His stare was so intense it made Tsuzuru back up a step.  
   
"Right. Then, you mean to say you're not attracted to me, you just-"  
   
Masumi shook his head. What did that mean!? No, he wasn't, or no, he was!?  
   
"I don't know how to be close to anyone," the boy said quietly, standing up and taking a step toward Tsuzuru. "Maybe you thought we were close like brothers, but when you treat me that way... It makes me fall in love with you, because nobody's ever treated me with that much care and affection."  
   
Love!? Who said anything about...!?  
   
"Masumi..."  
   
"I just... I thought you saw just another annoying little brother, like the ones you always complain about. I didn't think...you could actually like me," Masumi breathed, advancing closer.  
   
"If I didn't treat you that way..." Tsuzuru shook his head, hardly daring to believe this was happening, and then daring himself to test the truth of it. "I'd go crazy, living in such closed quarters, wanting to jump you all the damn time."  
   
Incredibly, Masumi looked sheepish. "Even through I've been such a brat?" he asked, pausing a mere footfall away from Tsuzuru.  
   
"Yeah..." Tsuzuru agreed, before a rush of affectionate warmth prompted total honesty. "But mostly when you're not."  
   
In moments, Masumi was pressed up against him, arms draped about his neck and face tilted up toward his. "I liked it. I liked how it made me feel when you played the big brother with me. So I tried even harder to make you see me that way," he confided, his voice excruciatingly breathy.  
   
There was no version of this script in which Tsuzuru didn't immediately dive to coat Masumi's lips with his own, parting them with his tongue while he squeezed the slight body in his arms in desperation. How was he supposed to resist such a charming confession? Let alone one that vindicated him from the entrapment of playacting brotherhood. Masumi wanted care and affection? That, Tsuzuru could do, and without all that roleplaying they'd fallen into.  
   
To prove it, he softened the desperate kiss, cradling Masumi's head in his palm. He brought his other hand around to Masumi's waist, withdrawing his tongue to a teasing brush. Peeking through his eyelashes, he found Masumi gazing right back at him. He made such a sight—cheekbones stained with a heavy blush, long lashes parted, and pupils swollen. Tsuzuru was so mesmerized, he forgot what he was meant to be doing with his lips and tongue and just stared.  
   
Masumi, ever the cool, calm, and collected creeper, promptly shut his mouth and puffed a heavy breath out his nostrils.  
   
"You're drooling," he said. "Get it together."  
   
Still dazed, Tsuzuru made to wipe away the spittle running down his chin, but Masumi stopped his hand and rose up on his tiptoes, instead. Sporting a predatory grin, he stuck out his tongue and lapped up the drool.  
   
"What the-!? Ew! Masumi, not cool!" Tsuzuru spluttered, trying to duck away but trapped by the wall.  
   
Still grinning, Masumi shrugged. "Not like I haven't drunk out of your water bottle or used your toothbrush before."  
   
"That's differ... Wait, what!?"  
   
On one hand, Tsuzuru felt a thrill of shock to realize just what kind of obsession he had unwittingly become the target of. His immediate reaction was to feel threatened, even a little frightened...but he knew Masumi wasn't dangerous. Obsessive, yes, in the way that a puppy dog would follow you anywhere and go to great lengths just to feel close to you. Yet, like a puppy, Masumi would never dream of harming anyone, even at his most protective. When you thought about it that way, his intensity was kinda...cute.  
   
"Dude, just...don't go licking my face, ok?" Tsuzuru groaned. "And I'm getting a new toothbrush because the whole point of brushing is cleanliness! Jeez."  
   
Puppy dog licks. Puppy dog eyes. Puppy dog sincerity... Tsuzuru was doomed, the moment Masumi let his true feelings show.  
   
"So I can share drinks with you?" he asked, closing what space had grown between them. "And kiss you? And lick other parts of you?"  
   
About to respond to the prior queries, Tsuzuru suddenly clammed up. "Other parts?" he asked, while trying not to let his hopes escalate by imagining the answer he wanted.  
   
"Like here," Masumi said huskily, darting in to lick the hollow above Tsuzuru's collar bone. Before disappointment could fully present, he demonstrated the next spot with a firm caress. "And here."  
   
It would have been melodramatic for Tsuzuru's eyes to roll back over such a simple touch, so he closed them, swallowing heavily.  
   
"Do you think you'd like that?" Masumi breathed.  
   
Would he like Masumi to lick his now very prominent erection? What kind of trick question was that? Tsuzuru could feel the burn of the boy’s upturned gaze, waiting in earnest for an answer.  
   
"Yes," he gasped. "I'd like that."  
   
"Pervert," Masumi murmured, but with more amusement than the acidity Tsuzuru would have expected.  
   
All the same, by the time Tsuzuru gained the courage to pry open his eyes, Masumi was on his knees, reaching to unfasten pants that now seemed far too revealing. The visible tent bobbed into Masumi's nose and Tsuzuru nearly squeaked.  
   
"You don't have to..." he haphazardly assured, but Masumi completely ignored him, freeing his erection without a hint of shame.  
   
Eyes fixated on the freed length cupped in his hand, the boy began to stroke, getting a feel for his new plaything. Without a single glance upward, he stretched out his tongue and licked. As if trying to keep an ice cream swirl from toppling, he curled his tongue to swipe one side, then the other, and then the front again.  
   
All the while, a steady stream of soft, unintelligible swearing bubbled up from Tsuzuru's gasping lips. It was his coping mechanism. He simply wasn't prepared to process this turn of events.  
   
Prepared or not, he was soon flushed with excitement all over as Masumi sucked enthusiastically on his aching hardness. Burying his fingers into short, silky hair, he rode the rising tide of pleasure to its breaking. Masumi really was a natural at pretty much anything. It wasn’t long before a strained moan escaped Tsuzuru’s throat, his whole body flooded with tingles that spread into mini novas.  
   
Peering through his lashes, he watched Masumi gulp down a mouthful and then lap up what leaked. There was white down his chin, and even on his cheek, but he scooped it up and licked his fingers clean. It was the most shockingly erotic thing Tsuzuru had ever seen.  
   
“Have you...? Have you done this before?” Tsuzuru found himself asking. He knew he shouldn’t, that the question itself was probably either offensive or insensitive, or just plain badly timed, but...  
   
“Why? Was I good?”  
   
“Y-yeah... You were. You are. I mean... That was amazing, Masumi.”  
   
With a very satisfied smirk, Masumi rose to his feet, clinging to Tsuzuru’s waist and staring up into his eyes. “I’ve been practicing. In my head. For hours. Ever since I read your script.”  
   
“Positive visualization, huh?” Tsuzuru asked, not sure if he fully believed it.  
   
“Yeah. That,” Masumi muttered.  
   
Then, as if he hadn’t just enacted a lewd scene out of an adult film, he tucked his chin against Tsuzuru’s shirt, rubbing his cheek lightly on the material. There was no way to describe the action but “cuddling” and it was the most adorable thing ever.  
   
Tsuzuru was screwed.  
   
“Hey, uh, don’t you want me to return the favor?” he asked.  
   
Normally, he wouldn’t bother asking, he’d just make a move, but Masumi seemed real happy just standing there and cuddling him. He didn’t want to ruin the moment.  
   
“Maybe after our date,” Masumi announced.  
   
Date? What date?  
   
“Oh, ok. Uh... So, when...? Uh, what...?”  
   
“There’s a play on at the Glow you’ll like. I looked it up. I got tickets for tonight, so hurry up and get changed,” Masumi announced.  
   
“Tonight? But how could you possibly know...?”  
   
In that moment, resignation hit Tsuzuru like a truck. He was Masumi’s new obsession, and this whole encounter had been pre-determined from the moment Masumi made up his mind. It was a strange thing, to realize that someone had just made you their whole world...but Tsuzuru didn’t find it as off putting as he might have thought when seeing it happen to someone else. He was flattered; a little excited, even... Masumi had been his guilty secret for quite a while now, and to have all this enthusiasm turned on him all at once...  
   
“I don’t wanna go to a play,” he purred.  
   
“But I got us tickets. Don’t you like me? I thought-”  
   
“Forget the tickets. I’ll pay you back,” Tsuzuru said sternly. Then, he took Masumi’s face in his hands and made it absolutely clear that he wasn’t rejecting the boy. He just had other plans.  
   
*  
   
Masumi melted. Nobody ever made a move on him like this. Nobody he liked, anyway. Usually, he was the one doing all the work to make things happen. Not that he minded. A little hard work proved just how deeply you loved someone. It was just...really nice to have that affirmation. Sure, the script had been intriguing, and given him ideas, but something like that could be explained away. It could be misinterpreted, or misrepresented, or... Kisses were for real. Tsuzuru kissing him was for real. It was everything he wanted.  
   
He tasted so good, a lot like he smelled. Even his spunk tasted good, in that way that snacks cut into a shape that made you happy tasted better somehow... It was Tsuzuru, and that made it good.  
   
Masumi couldn’t quite identify the moment he had fallen in love with Tsuzuru, only that he had always been attracted to the older man, and that it had become very clear to him in the last hour that they were meant to be together.  
   
He didn’t care about the play, or the tickets. He looked forward to seeing a play with Tsuzuru, or eating out with Tsuzuru, or going for a walk with Tsuzuru, or buying groceries with Tsuzuru, or buying a pet with Tsuzuru, or moving into a brand new apartment with Tsuzuru, or choosing a surrogate with Tsuzuru... The point was, they would have plenty of time to do all of that together. All that mattered was that they did it together. So, if Tsuzuru wanted to stay home and make out...or more...Masumi wanted that, too.  
   
Damn, but Tsuzuru was a good kisser. How come he was so good? How many guys had he even kissed? Or girls, for that matter? Or more than kissed. How many times had he been sucked off before? Was Masumi the best? He really hoped so. Tsuzuru had seemed to like it so much... Had Tsuzuru ever sucked anyone off? He’d sounded like he’d be willing to do it to Masumi, and that sounded awesome, even if it wasn’t his first time like it had been for Masumi...but right now, that wasn’t what Masumi wanted most. He was probably too late to be Tsuzuru’s first, but he really, really wanted Tsuzuru to be his—especially if that was what Tsuzuru really, really wanted, too, and it kinda seemed like he did.  
   
His hands were everywhere. Under Masumi’s shirt, in his back pocket, up the inside seam, in his hair, on his cheek, and finally...down the front of his jeans. Breathing heavily, Masumi broke away from the intense make-out session. He felt hot all over, but especially in his face. He needed air.  
   
“Shit. Sorry. I’m moving too fast for you,” Tsuzuru panted, ruffling his short, sandy hair in a way that made Masumi’s heart skip a beat. “Ok, new plan. Let’s go to that play and-”  
   
Masumi launched himself back into Tsuzuru’s mouth before the sentence could run its course. “I just...needed...to breathe...” he gasped between kisses, as he began to drag Tsuzuru’s shirt up between them, trying to figure out how he could keep kissing Tsuzuru, say what he needed, and also get both of their clothes off, all at once.  
   
“Ok... Ok... I said, ok!” Tsuzuru finally broke free and put about a finger’s length of space between them. He was panting, too, and his skin was red in patches. “Hold up a sec,” he sighed, disappearing behind his shirt for a moment. “Now you.”  
   
Masumi tore off his shirt with eager haste, waiting patiently for Tsuzuru to indicate they could resume with the tongue wrestling. Instead, he tugged down his open pants, stepping out of them, but tugging his briefs up to cover his glistening wet crotch.  
   
“Now you.”  
   
Frustrated by the enforced patience, Masumi dropped his jeans, and his boxers, too. He aimed a pointed look at Tsuzuru’s still-clothed crotch.  
   
“These? These, I was saving for you,” Tsuzuru said with a chuckle, snapping the elastic against his waist.  
   
Masumi cocked his head, contemplating. “You do it.”  
   
“All right.” With a shrug, Tsuzuru slowly and calmly removed his briefs, revealing to Masumi every last inch of his skin.  
   
It wasn’t a new sight. They’d been naked together before, in the showers, backstage, changing in their room...but now Masumi looked on Tsuzuru’s naked form and saw skin that was his to touch and muscles that were his to put to the test.  
   
“Listen, I’m all for this, but we’ve gotta take it a little more slowly, ok?" Tsuzuru began to lecture. "I’m not going anywhere. You can take your time...and... Let’s be real, we both know where this is headed, but only if you want that, yeah? You don’t have to rush into anything you’re not ready to-”  
   
“Have you had sex before?” Masumi blurted out.  
   
“I... Yeah, I have,” Tsuzuru answered, a note of hesitation in his voice.  
   
Masumi didn’t like hearing that. He didn’t want anyone else to have seen, felt, or otherwise generally “experienced” Tsuzuru... But it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.  
   
“Have you had sex with a virgin before?” he pressed.  
   
Tsuzuru looked surprised, then slowly shook his head. “No. My first time was with...someone older, and I’ve never... No. I haven’t.”  
   
“Then I wanna be your first first,” Masumi told him, taking his hand and leading him toward the bunks. “And I don’t wanna wait.”  
   
“Masumi...” Tsuzuru halted, resisting the pull. “I just have to make certain... Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure...I’m what you want? Last night, you stole the director’s coffee cup so you could drink water out of it in the middle of the night, and now... It’s just really sudden.”  
   
Masumi shook his head. “I told you. It’s not...” He gasped. “Are you jealous?” He was always the jealous one. Nobody ever got that way over him... “I can’t stop liking her just like that, but I promise, even if she grabs me and kissed me, I won’t even-”  
   
“Yeah, I’m not worried about that. Never gonna happen,” Tsuzuru said dryly, crushing Masumi’s hopes that he was green with envy. “But you’re right. I am jealous. I like you, Masumi. I mean, really. I never thought you would even consider being with me, though, not when you’ve been so in love with our director for so long. I guess I’m scared you’ll wake up tomorrow and realize you’d temporarily gone insane.”  
   
Suddenly, Tsuzuru chuckled, and Masumi couldn’t fathom why because he was too busy considering what the man had said. He squeezed Tsuzuru’s hand in his as he stood there, thinking, just wanting to feel that connection and know that Tsuzuru was still there, waiting for him to find an answer.  
   
He understood why Tsuzuru was worried. He just didn’t know how to show him he was wrong. Maybe if they had sex, then Tsuzuru would know he was serious, and that he wasn’t going anywhere, because Tsuzuru was going to be his first...  
   
“I get it,” he said, looking up at his roommate and brand new boyfriend. “I know what you’re scared of. You think you’d be trapping me. If we have sex, and you take my virginity, then I’ll have to stay with you. That’s what you think.”  
   
For once, Tsuzuru was speechless. He shrugged one shoulder weakly, but otherwise gave no indication that Masumi had seen right through him. It was only natural that Masumi understood him. Masumi loved him. He could easily figure out Tsuzuru’s perspective.  
   
“It’s okay,” Masumi whispered, tugging Tsuzuru along with him again. “That’s just because you don’t know... I like the director—honestly, I love her—but I’ve never thought about having sex with her. Not like I have with you.” He hit the ladder of his loft bed and leaned back into it, letting Tsuzuru’s weight fall against him. “A lot. Like, all the time. I don’t know when it started, but it feels like I’ve been masturbating about you every day for months.”  
   
“You’ve...never thought about her like that?” Tsuzuru breathed.  
   
“Never,” Masumi promised.  
   
“Then... All those times I heard your sheets rustling, heard you gasping and grunting, and trying to keep quiet in the middle of the night...”  
   
“You,” Masumi whispered. “Every time.”  
   
“Fuck.”  
   
The next thing Masumi knew, his thighs were seated on Tsuzuru’s hips and he had to lock them tight and hold onto the man’s neck as he was carried up the ladder. He was spilled onto the bunk and crawled backward to make room for his soon-to-be lover, whose eyes were fixed on him with an intensity that made him feel like he could burst at any second.  
   
“I don’t think I can!” he cried in anguish, as Tsuzuru scrambled over his legs.  
   
The older man froze, as if he would shatter if he so much as breathed. His gaze grew wary.  
   
“If you touch me, I’m gonna...”  
   
“Scream?” Tsuzuru supplied, his voice tight.  
   
“Yeah, probably,” Masumi agreed. “And then I’m gonna cum, cause I’m seriously on the edge, right now.”  
   
The air rushed out of Tsuzuru all at once and he collapsed over Masumi’s thighs, causing the boy’s abs to tense and a grunt of restraint to pass his lips.  
   
“Seriously,” he groaned. “This sucks. I really want-”  
   
“That’s easy,” Tsuzuru muttered, raising his head to gaze up the line of Masumi’s body and into his eyes. “We just have to siphon off some of that pent-up sexual energy. I was looking forward to returning the favor, anyway.”  
   
He gave no warning before pouncing on Masumi’s extremely stiff boner. There was no licking, no teasing, not like Masumi had done to him... Just hot, wet heat all around, and a powerful suction that threatened to suck Masumi right into another world. In fact, it did.  
   
He did scream, too. Loudly. A whole string of words he didn't normally use, and a lot of the same name thrown in for good measure.  
   
When it was over, he had no strength to sit up. Lying flat on his back, he took deep breaths, flexing his fingers to feel the soft hair he didn't remember gripping in his bliss.  
   
"It's never felt like that before," he murmured.  
   
"That's how it feels when you share it with someone you care about," Tsuzuru told him, crawling up to lie beside him, propped up against the wall.  
   
Masumi scowled. "How do you know that? And who was that older guy who took your first time away from me? How many people have you dated, anyway?"  
   
"Shhh." Tsuzuru didn't interrupt his questioning, but he cut Masumi off before the next could be spoken. "The truth is, Masumi... I've never dated anyone. I'm not lying. I've messed around with a bunch of guys, but nobody ever asked me out on a date before. That made me really happy."  
   
Eyes widening, Masumi felt his energy return all at once. "Let's go to the play," he insisted.  
   
Tsuzuru smiled. "Yeah. You're right. I think I'd like that, after all. I guess... I was rushing things, cause I thought you'd change your mind."  
   
"I'm not gonna-!"  
   
"Shhh. It's all right. I know that now." Gently, Tsuzuru leaned in and kissed Masumi on the forehead. "Will you be my first date?" he asked. "That way, it'll be really special when we finally do have sex."  
   
"I'm really glad you wrote that script," Masumi muttered, afraid his blush would give away just how much that request meant to him.  
   
"I'm glad you liked it," Tsuzuru said with a chuckle. "Come on. Let's get dressed and get going before I change my mind again. The longer I look at you naked, the more tempting you look."  
   
"Perv."  
   
"Tease."  
   
"Sexy bastard."  
   
"Uh... Thank you?"  
   
"You're welcome. Now you..."  
   
"Stop fishing for compliments and get dressed!"


	4. Kissing Kissing Cousins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juza/Muku/Banri
> 
> A study on crossing all the right lines.

"The fuck?"

It was understandable that Banri might be shocked by what he walked in on.

"Oh my god. How could I let this happen? I'm worse than the slime lining the drains of a suspect bath-house scraped into a rotten pile of curdled sludge..."

It was understandable that Muku might panic in response to Banri's shock.

"Fuck."

Less understandable was the way the wood in Juza's silk boxers jumped for joy at the development. His hand clamped tighter on Muku's thigh and he swallowed heavily, his eyes locked onto the widened almond windows into Banri's bared soul. He seemed so oddly vulnerable in that moment, despite the fact that it was Juza who had been caught red-handed, making out with his impressionable cinnamon roll of a cousin.

"Dude... I'm just gonna leave now, 'kay? None of my damn business if you guys are kissing cousins or whatever."

Banri backed right out and shut the door.

Juza stared at Muku's neck, not sure he was capable of making eye contact without prematurely blowing his load. He took a deep breath.

"Ju-chan...I'm so sorry! I'll... I'll leave, if you want. I'll quit the troupe! I'll commit sepuku! Just... Just look at me. Please. If you can't, I... I'll..."

The tearful tone tugged hard on Juza's heartstrings. Before he knew it, he was looking up into Muku's watery eyes, and then his tongue was right back down Muku's throat, his fingers squeezing athletic buns under loose shorts, and his wood grinding up into the groin that hovered above his lap.

"Forget it," he snapped when he tore his mouth from Muku's and moved his lips and teeth to mark that pale, dainty throat, too focused on riding the edge to be polite. "Who cares what he thinks."

Juza. Juza cared. Because he knew Settsu, Banri, and that vulnerability in his eyes wasn't disapproval, it was desire.

"J-Ju-chan! Not so rough! I can't hold it anymore! If you don't slow down, I'm gonna... I'm..."

"Say it," Juza growled, his whole body trembling on the cusp of a powerful explosion. "Say the words."

"I'm cumming!" Muku shrieked, gyrating uncontrollably in Juza's lap. "You're making me cum!"

A roar tore from Juza's throat as he soiled his boxers with what felt like an endless cycle of ejaculation. His face was buried in Muku's bare chest, his hands gripping both ass and arm tightly enough to bruise.

*

Banri was still slumped against the door, his heart racing, when Muku's cries penetrated the wood, filling his ears. He bit his lips and squeezed his package, amazed at himself as he then reached into his pants, and quickly and silently jerked off right there in the hallway.

Hyodo did not turn him on. Muku was not his type. Regardless, the sight of the contrasting cousins, partially undressed and engaged in heavy tongue wrestling had had an engorging effect on his anatomy.

Wiping his hand against his thigh, Banri set off with a wince for the squish. If there was anybody who could shed some light on the phenomenon, it was Itaru.

*

"Cousins? Please, that's small potatoes. Your real core incest tropes are the siblings who would die for each other, the doting older sibling blind with love for the tsundere younger, and—of course—the classic, twincest." As if discussing sales techniques, Itaru rattled off the list of taboos while bent over his controller, eyes glued to the screen. Banri recognized the shooter as the latest Biohazard. "Why the sudden interest, anyway? You walk in on Juza and Muku, or something?"

The casual question caught Banri off guard. "You know about that?" he gasped.

Itaru cast a brief, sideways glance at him before shooting down three enemies in succession. When he was done, he thumbed pause, laid the controller down, and leaned back, totally at ease as he met Banri's shocked gaze.

"Well I do now," he said. "Wanna talk about it? You weirded out? Or into it?"

"How can you just...?" Banri gagged, the words stuck in his throat. "This isn't some perverted anime. They're really cousins."

"You know you've got a wet spot, right?" Itaru asked, dryly. "You wanna puzzle it out? Come back when you're ready to hop down off that high horse." He reached for the controller.

"Wait! Ok, yeah," Banri confessed. "It was hot. I mean, seeing Muku like that at all... And Hyodor, he clearly gave no fucks."

"So was that what really made you horny? Or did it happen the moment you remembered they're related?" Itaru pressed, his voice bland, as if he was coaching someone on their homework, or a co-worker through fixing a mistake.

"Maybe," Banri muttered, non-commitally. "I dunno. It all happened so fast."

"Ok, what about now?" asked Itaru-sensei. "Still turned on when you think about them together?"

Banri imagined it for a second, felt his body heat rise, and reluctantly nodded.

"Dude, that's sick," Itaru suddenly scolded. "Those two grew up together. Probably took baths together, cuddled up on sleepovers... Oh yeah, I can see how it could have happened, though. Discovering their hormones while cuddled up on a cold Christmas Eve, Juza just old enough to know what to do with a boner... Hey, doesn't he have a kid brother?"

"Oh my god, stop." Banri blanched, but not in disgust. His face was hot and his pants were starting to feel tight again.

"Oh yeah. You've got a real kink there," Itaru announced, chuckling. "Welcome to my life."

"How can you say that with a straight face? You have a sister!" Banri snapped.

"I have an overbearing harpy lady who isn't any fun at all, let alone a human being with desires. You know how it is," drawled the older man.

Banri did know. While the thought of Muku getting it on with Juza tickled his balls, the very idea of his big sister having any sort of sexual relations quickly shrivelled them. He sighed.

"So, what? I'm a pervert?" he asked, defeated.

"Nah. You just have a thing for the taboo, as long as it's not yours. Me? I'm a pervert." Itaru had controller in hand again, almost as if to avoid Banri's gaze as he said, "Why do you think I'm dating an overbearing harpy of a crossdressing middleschooler who has me twined around his pinky?"

"Damn, Itaru..." Banri really didn't know what else to say to that. Especially because Itaru may have a point about him having a thing for other people's taboos. This latest insight into the utterly demoral relationship that everyone who knew turned a blind eye to only made the thought of it that much hotter.

"Now, are you gonna help me clear this section, or go find some privacy to face your demons?"

"All right, all right. I'm in," Banri groaned, snatching up the nearest controller on charge. "I could do with a distraction."

*

There was only so much distraction one could seek before the subject driving one to distraction reared its head. In this case, every time Banri entered his own room, he did so cautiously, and still occasionally walked in on sights like Juza choking on Muku's cock while the younger cousin tugged ruthlessly on purple hair, a tiny crown balanced atop his own pink head. Then there was the time he caught Muku sneaking into their room after midnight with a whole bowl of freshly whipped cream. Just what debauchery didn't those two get up to!?

It was like Juza was doing this on purpose; like the constant inducement of intense arousal was just another way to beat him. Well, Banri wasn't going to admit defeat, not as long as he drew breath.

"So, what would it cost?" Banri asked, gazing subtly into his wallet to figure out if it could take the hit.

"Let me get this straight. You're soliciting me...for sex," Azuma drawled, his tone clearly disapproving.

Banri had expected as much, but he figured he had enough cred with the adult faction to pull it off. He pulled out a hundred bucks and stuffed his wallet back in his pocket.

"Not sex," he clarified. "Just...relief of some sort. Come on, Azu-ne. I need this. Hyodor and his escapades are driving me mad. I can't take the edge off anymore."

"And you think I can?" Azuma asked, still frowning as heavily as he ever dared before he risked wrinkles.

"If anyone can, it's you," Banri begged, wafting the money.

"For cash," Azuma finished, his voice dangerously low.

"Is it...not enough?" Banri asked. "I don't have a card like your regular clients prolly do, ok? You can give me a discount, can't you? On account of being friends? Don't go telling me you don't shit where you eat, or some other cliche."

"On account of being friends..." Azuma said quietly, "I won't throw you out on your wildly inappropriate ass. I won't take your money, Banri." Even as he said so, he slipped the note out of Banri's hand between two fingers. That was confusing enough to stall any kind of reaction long enough for him to reach around and sensually slip the note into Banri's back pocket. At the same time, he lifted Banri's chin and leaned in to meld his insanely soft lips against a stupidly gaping mouth. He was just as accomplished a kisser as Banri could ever have imagined, and the torturous movie roll of Muku and Juza faded from memory for a time.

When Azuma broke the kiss and let his hand slide down Banri's torso, the highschooler finally broke.

"Azu-ne? What's going on?" he breathed.

"You need this, right?" Azuma asked, his voice kind. Banri nodded as the ageless man sunk down onto his knees, gazing up through pretty, snowy lashes. "Just don't ever insult me like that again," Azuma warned. His hardened voice gave Banri the chills. "You're lucky I've noticed how out of sorts you've been and I know you're not thinking clearly," he continued, freeing Banri from his jeans. "If you think it'll help..."

Any response Banri might have made was lost in a groan, his head rolling back on his neck. Professional or not, Azuma was a master of felatio.

*

"Dude. I can't believe you not only thought Azuma was a whore but actually tried to pay him to sleep with you."

"Putting aside the fact he's never made the slightest effort to make anyone think otherwise... I know. I'm seriously going insane here."

"So? How was he?"

"Fuck. I can't even put into words..."

"So. You're cured?"

"I wish. Now I just get a chub whenever Juza, Muku, or Azuma is in the room. I'm screwed."

"Well, here's a list of hentai you might try. Who knows, watch enough of it and maybe you'll get desensitized."

"Ahuh. And you've watched how much shota-con to date?"

"Obviously I'm a lost cause. Do as I say, not as I do, Banri."

"What I need is ammunition. An eye for an eye. I needa kink to flaunt in front of Hyodor. I need ta make him suffer like I have."

"Want me to try talking Yuki into a threesome?"

"Fuck no. I'm not in any rush to get my bits bitten of, thanks."

"Awww, he doesn't bite too hard."

"Seriously. You need help."

"You're not wrong."

*

It was obvious, in retrospect. Fighting fire with fire didn't mean out-kinking Juza. It mean out-relationing him. In the end, it was Itaru who had planted the seed of the concept in him.

Juza had a little brother. Even better, Banri knew exactly where he lived after stalking Hyodo the Hulk in search of a fight back in the day. Seduce the little twerp and Juza'd surely crack...

"Ah! Banri! Look! Look what I found in storage! There are so many great props hiding away in there! What do you think! Would Ju-chan like these?"

Just as Banri was setting out on his mission of seduction and revenge...who should appear but the peppy little twinkie who was the source of his incessant sexual frustration, bearing in hand a riding crop and a leash and collar.

The imagery was vivid and immediate. First, it was Muku bound by the collar, a ball-gag in his mouth, down on hands and knees. The leash led to Juza, one foot on Muku's back, riding crop in hand.

That was the obvious deduction, knowing who was intend to share those props, but something in Muku's feverishly excited eyes sparked a second fantasy in Banri. He saw Juza, bound in full shibari, gagged, and fully erect, kneeeling at his own feet. Wielding leash and crop, Muku knelt behind his cousin, using the crop to guide Juza's chin upward and force him to meet Banri's eyes.

Fuck that slut.

And fuck the sordid little pixie waving BDSM tools at him like a child's toys!

"You fucking pipsqueak whore!" Banri roared, lunging and grabbing Muku by the throat, pinning the smaller boy to the wall, teary-eyed and half choked.

The props had fallen from his hands and he was spluttering for air, so it wasn't all that surprising when a shout of fury rang out bearing Banri's name, just as he was going in for a vicious kiss.

"Settsu!"

"ME!?" Banri whirled. "Me! I'M the problem...? Did you not see-!?"

A backhand struck his cheek so hard, he went stumbling. It stunned Banri into silence as he processed just how fucked he was. Sakyo never used violence within the dorm. Just the threat of it was deterrent enough. To actually strike him... Sakyo must be out of his mind with rage.

"Sakisaka, look at me. Are you all right? Has he done you any harm?"

"I-I'm fine!" Muku choked. "It's not Banri's f-fault. I'm a lowly, whoring slag with no self respect and I begged him to choke me with my filthy bedroom eyes, and what's more, I liked it!"

It was almost worth the burn in his cheek, seeing Sakyo pale and begin to sweat as the dirty tirade poured forth from sweet little Sakisaka, Muku.

"Sakisaka... That's enough of that talk," Sakyo finally muttered. "Disparaging yourself is one thing. Advertising yourself in such a sexual light, however... I cannot condone it."

"Disparaging...? Oh, n-no... It's all true. I really did want it. Truly."

"Don't cover for that piece of-"

"I'm not, though! Mr. Sakyo, sir... You've never treated Banri badly before! Please don't start now because of me!"

"Muku. That's enough," Banri said, his own flat tone disturbing him a little.

Muku was right. Sakyo had always given him the benefit of the doubt. Whatever he pulled, the stern and stoic yakuza had never treated him like real scum. It must have been a real shock to learn what trash Banri really was at the end of the day.

"No, it's not!" Muku shouted, tears in his eyes. "I did exactly what Ju-chan said, and you did exactly what he said you'd do! It's all my fault! Please don't hurt him anymore, Sakyo... He hasn't told on me and Juza this whole time and we've been leading him on so much... It's not f-fair."

"Settsu... Put some ice on that face. I don't have the slightest clue what is going on here, and I'm not sure I ought to try and find out... But don't ever let me see you snap like that again, capiche?"

"Aye, aye, sir," Banri murmured, eyes downcast.

Confusion written all over his face, Sakyo soon departed.

"Um... Banri? Don't be sad," murmured Muku, standing sheepishly before him with the instigating items in hand. "Do...uh... Do you...wanna have sex with me? Cause...if you did...that would be ok." Banri gaped. Muku was something else. "Me and Ju-chan... We just wanted you to know us better. Ju-chan'll never admit it, but he thinks you're really sexy, and I do, too. The thing is...I think you were about to kiss me, and I was really looking forward to it."

"Are you shitting me?" Banri uttered in disbelief.

Muku shook his head. "I've always wanted to try having a threesome," he blurted out, excitement speeding his speech. "The second I first saw you and Ju-chan squaring off, I knew I wanted to be right there between you. So what do you think? I know Ju-chan will secretly be thrilled if you give us a chance! Oh! And don't worry about Mr. Sakyo. I'll make Ju-chan tell him everything to make up for how we've been torturing you. Promise."

Straightening up to his full height, Banri peered down at the little pink head that had given him so much grief.

"One condition..."

*

If looks could kill, Juza would be a bona fide assassin. His glinting eyes, filled to the brim with equal parts lust and loathing, gleamed with a preternatural light.

Having missed the setup, Banri could only imagine the scene as Muku waltzed in, props in hand, and donned the role of dominatrix, bending Juza to his will and fitting the black, leather collar, leading him around a bit by the leash. Once he had the muscle-head all riled up, Muku would have slipped on the cock ring. Then, the rope must have been dug out from some forsaken chest or drawer to be wound unmercifully around wrists and ankles. Down on his knees, arms bound behind his back, gagged with a silk tie and a pair of Muku's briefs stuffed under his tongue for good measure, Juza could do naught but glare bloody murder as Banri followed Muku (strappy leather non-outfit concealed under a pepto pink dressing gown) into the room he himself shared with the captive. Right there, in front of Juza's eyes, Banri slid the dressing gown off of Muku's shoulders, and let his hands explore the pale skin and subtle but athletic musculature of the smaller boy.

He basked in Juza's wrath as he delivered a vivid, angry hickey just forward of Muku's armpit, where no one could see. Better yet, he felt a purely existential ecstasy as Muku went to town on him, his cock disappearing between sweet, pink lips, right under Juza's nose.

As he stood there, fingers twined in Muku's candy floss hair, hips undulating slightly...it occured to Banri that Juza was entirely at his mercy. He could beat the snot out of the brute. Juza couldn't lift a fucking finger.

But, for once, violence wasn't foremost on Banri's mind when he took in that hair the shade of burnt poison and those eyes befitting a jungle cat. As Muku's tongue massaged his rock hard length, and a suction the likes of which Banri hadn't known was humanly possible assaulted every nerve ending in his lower body, he licked his lips and thought about what he really, truly wanted to do with Juza.

Stroking Muku's hair, he eased the boy off of him, panting slightly as he smirked down in approval at those wide eyes seeking his validation. He drew Muku up for a kiss, and then sank down into a crouch himself. He tugged the tie loose from Juza's mouth and plucked out the spit-soaked briefs.

Juza remained silent, still glaring bullets. In answer, a smart quip died unspoken on Banri's tongue...which he then extended to tangle with Juza's in a shockingly desperate, dirty, passionate game of tonsel hockey.

"Just so we're clear," Banri growled when they broke for air, "Your ass is mine."

To his surprise, Juza merely grunted. His stare was unnervingly direct...and inviting. It sent a shiver of longing up Banri's spine and back down again.

"You gonna do Muku?" Juza asked, to the point as ever.

"You really wanna see that, huh?" Banri asked, thinking through the various possible combinations.

"...Yeah." Juza was breathing hard. He had that same expression on his face as when someone offered him pudding. It was almost too precious.

"Oi, Muku, help me dump this big lug on the bed, will ya?"

"The bed? Oh, but won't he be too comfy?"

"Damn, you are one ruthless S.O.B," Banri muttered, impressed. "Still, I don't want skinned knees. Do you?"

"That's a good point! You're too clever for a pea-brained pustule on the back of a plague-ridden gnat like me..."

"Ahuh. Heave-ho, Muku. Heave-ho."

Soon, Juza was installed at the foot of the bed and Banri was tasting Muku's tonsels, gently stroking the long, stiff length jutting up over a low-cut belt of leather that sat across Muku's slim, toned hips. Damn, but he had a sexy physique once you got your hands on him.

Banri briefly wondered what Itaru would make of the sight of cute little Muku, leather-bound in his lap, cheeks red with passion. Playing with first one pert little nipple and then the other, Banri let Juza's intense gaze permeate him, and realized he was already hooked on that particular kink. One cousin putty in his hands, the other watching...

"You gonna make him do all the work?" came Juza's low rumble.

"Huh?" Snapping out of a trance of sorts, Banri glanced down at the boy in his lap to see one hand working busily beneath him.

"This is fine," Muku pre-empted him. "You looked so sexy, lost in thought, I couldn't help myself." Be that as it may, Banri wet his fingers and reached down under Muku's bottom to take over. "This is so exciting, though. It's like this one BL manga I got really into, only, instead of cousins, these two step brothers get kidnapped by this wicked pervert with his own private dungeon and-"

"Who you callin' a wicked pervert!?" Banri snapped.

A snort sounded from Juza's direction. "You, obviously. Maybe take your fingers out of my cousin's ass before you deny it."

"You shut the fuck up," Banri snarled. He couldn't rightly deny the accusation, however. "You're pretty much the last person who can talk. Just how long have you been corrupting Muku for, anyway? I mean, he's in middle school! Hell, you're a high schooler! And you call me perverted!?"

Suddenly Muku turned in Banri's arms and hugged him. Lips to ear, in a near-silent whisper, he asked, "Is this your first time?"

Going all the way? It sure was. Not that Banri wanted Juza to know that. Muku, though...he deserved the truth. Banri made an affirmative sound, but didn't dare risk words.

"It's ok. I know you'll be a natural," Muku whispered. "I won't tell," he promised, and then he was down on his hands and knees, wiggling his butt at Banri's face.

Banri did not have to be tempted twice. Grabbing hold of Muku's firm, fit buns, he lined himself up, grunted as he struggled to get past the first hurdle, and then Muku sighed out a breath and relaxed, and the hot dog slammed home.

"Fuuuuuck," Banri hissed, frozen in place as he processed.

By the time he was ready to move and get that next hit of sensation, Muku was hard at work with Juza's angry, red pole down his throat. If it wasn't for the little rubber ring at the base of his—absurdly gigantic—hard on, he probably would have blown his load twice over, by the look on his face.

Thoroughly turned on by this new perspective of his arch nemesis, Banri began fucking the little, pink-haired slut writhing on his cock in earnest. He held on tight to Muku's hips and began pistoning, practically holding his breath in appreciation of the sensation.

For all that Muku's mouth was as full as Hisoka playing "Chubby Bunny" Muku was extremely vocal. Banri could even make out the occasional word, like "Hargar!" and "Heeze!" (which he interpreted to mean "harder, please"). He obliged until his face was beaded with sweat and his lungs heaved for air. Then, he slowed and stroked Muku's spine affectionately. To his suprise, that was the trigger that sent Muku's hips into spasms and made him shout around his throatfull.

Banri watched in amazement as Muku extracted himself and rolled onto his side, looking high as a kite and utterly defiled. His hair was a mess, his lips red and swollen, his pale skin blotched with high color, and his belly soiled with the evidence of his orgasm.

"Don't just sit there," Juza growled, struggling against his bonds.

Buttons pressed, Banri dragged Juza forward by the leash and collar around his neck, drawing him toward the middle of the bed, face first. Then, he got behind the bound and helpless thug and began roughly tugging at the knots around his ankles. Muku made a vague effort to help but mostly just got in the way. How did he learn to make knots like that, anyway?

The second he was free to move his legs, Juza surged up on his knees and arched his back, twisting this way and that.

"My hands?" he prompted.

Banri scoffed. "Fat chance." He pulled Juza's body back against his own and began mapping out the rugged terrain of abs and scars at his fingertips.

"You can just take him like that," Muku helpfully suggested. "He's too impatient for prep."

All the same, Banri asked quietly and with a kindness that surprised even him, "You sure?" He spoke at Juza's ear, breathing in the pleasant scent of shampoo and a certain musk. "I'm bigger than Muku, you know."

"Just do it," Juza hissed.

His eyes were closed, almost delicately long lashes fluttering against his cheek. He was taking slow, deep breaths, as if in great pain...or great pleasure. Banri glanced down at the ring-bound length jutting straight up in indication of the source of Juza's distress.

"Fine. I warned you," Banri growled, nudging Juza about till he was in just the right spot. "I'd say 'buckle up,' but we got that covered," he quipped, gripping the rope binding Juza's wrists and pulling backward as he stuffed himself in as deep as he could go in one thrust. It wasn't very deep at all, so he threw his other arm around Juza's waist and forced him to bend over it, holding on to the rope to keep the lanky teen upright. After that, it was all give and take.

Muku found the energy to move and arranged himself so he could cradle Juza's head in his lap. Stroking softly, he kept up a mumbled stream of dirty talk that would have made Banri blush, if he wasn't already flushed with impending ecstasy.

As his hips jerked, he reached down to fumble for the cock ring, but he was moving too violently for coordination. Muku did the honors, and as Juza roared in pleasure, instantly erupting, Banri grabbed his hips and pounded fast and hard, till stars burst in his own vision.

As Juza lay immobile, face planted in Muku's lap, and the younger cousin picked at the ropes tied tight around thick wrists, Banri stared down in wonder. Maybe, just maybe, he didn't hate Juza after all. Maybe he never had done.

Dazed, and inexplicably exhausted, he lay down against the rail of the bunk, Muku's love bite blurred in front of his eyes. In time, when Juza loomed over him, like something out of a horror flick, he just smiled, and lazily accepted the awkward kiss slobbered over his lips.

There was something comforting about having a giant like Juza cuddled up to your chest while dainty little Muku petted both your heads like stray dogs, tamed and cherished. There was something to be said for kissing kissing cousins, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting how inconvenient those damn bunk beds are, so yall can have fun imagining Muku and Banri having a grand old time trying to get Juza up there all hog-tied.


	5. What's in a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akito (Summer troupe ensemble)/Tenma
> 
> A study in what lies behind a professional front.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is obviously a very unusual pairing, and I doubted it a few times, but in the end, I feel very strongly about pairing Tenma with a member of the ensemble to bring out another side of him.  
> Akito, on the other hand, is a very minor character, so this is just my take on his personality.

"All right, Tenma, you're going to walk angrily down the hall, turn the corner, and clip shoulders with the first extra on your left. Then keep going. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Great. Rolling! And...action!"

As instructed, Tenma walked—but he didn't just walk, he swaggered. Jamming his hands in his pockets, he let his feet weave a little, all the while glaring at an imaginary foe. In his mind's eye, he saw Yuki, walking backwards ahead of him and making faces while calling him names.

Rather than risk pulling off an unnaturally sharp turn because he was so aware of it coming up, Tenma used his character's mood to destabilize his movement. He stepped too close to the corner and pushed off of it with his arm in a perfect simulation of someone with a chip on their shoulder venting frustration. As he did, he saw two uniformed extras coming toward him.

One, who was closer, was on course to pass on Tenma's left. The momentum of the ricochet would result in a rougher clash than advisable. The one on the right seemed a little tougher, and veering to the right would be the most natural path after his inspired corner turn... That one was a better height for it, too.

Trusting his instincts, Tenma careened right into his choice. It hurt, the crash into a sturdy shoulder, and Tenma naturally glanced back as he walked on, to pin the guy with a glare. Glaring right back at him with totally real irritation painted across his face, the guy looked a little familiar, but Tenma snapped his head back around to watch where he was going before any sign of recognition could light in his eyes.

''Hold... And cut! Brilliant, Tenma! That was inspired," fawned the director. "Take ten. We're filming the locker kiss next."

Tenma was lucky this director knew and trusted him so well. Another might not have been so pleased with that kind of ad lib. They would, of course, be a hack, but hey... That was the industry.

Unlike the director, the extra was silently fuming at the far end of the fake hallway. Curbing the urge to roll his eyes, Tenma put on his professional face and sauntered over, waving off both coffee and touch-ups on the way. 

"Sorry to throw you in the deep end there," he said. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

The guy scoffed. "With that scrawny shoulder? Not likely." Only when the gross lack of manners piqued Tenma's ire did he really take in the soft, hazelnut hair of medium length and deep, fudge-colored eyes all-but burning holes through him. "Anyway, I saw it coming. I'm used to your whims by now."

"Excuse me?" Tenma mumbled, now frowning. A split second after he wondered why an extra was acting so familiar with him, it clicked. He knew that face, but it was the voice that had made a deeper impression on him. It followed. He remembered that the guy was in a band...but that was about all he remembered, aside from those pretty brown eyes.

The guy tilted his head. "You don't know my name, do you?"

Damn, but he was right. Despite the fact that the guy standing before him was a Summer Troupe ensemble member, he only had a vague impression that there was a "to" in there somewhere.

"Sure I do. It's, uh...to... Hayato! You're in that band that's been around since highschool, right?" Relieved that he'd dredged up enough knowledge to pass, Tenma grinned.

"Hayato. From Duel Jewel," Hayato clarified, sportingly.

"Yeah, that's what I said," Tenma confirmed, rather pleased with himself.

"How old do you think I am?" Hayato asked, tilting his head in the opposite direction.

"Dude, how should I know? Everyone in the visual kei industry is basically a vampire," Tenma scoffed, though he did find himself curious. The band had been around since the 90s or early 2000s, so... 30s? Early 40s, even? Bit of an age difference there, but you'd never tell by looking.

"I'm 20, my name is Akito, and you've never heard of my band, but in a few months you'll be seeing us everywhere."

Tenma blinked. His awareness that he was on set, surrounded by influential persons, helped him to curb the urge to scowl. Besides, 20 was a much more promising number.

Before Tenma could question what it might have promised, he focused on the expected inquiry. He was on the job. Professional etiquette and charitable mingling. Those were the keys to an actor's reputation within industry circles. There was no room for personal interests or preferences.

"Well? What's it called?" he asked, amiably.

Akito seemed surprised by his restraint. If they were in rehearsal for a Mankai Company play, he would probably have gotten prickly about being duped and called out. Tenma watched realization dawn in those mysterious mahogany eyes and resolved to get his revenge later when Akito was least expecting it. For now, he let the musician indulge in arrogance.

"When you recognize me on a poster, you can tell me," Akito said, rife with smug confidence. "Hack."

The trigger word brought Tenma's stiff smile crashing down into a sullen glare. He still maintained a civil demeanor, but he was through with playing the saint.

"Whatever, man," he growled, quietly, for Akito's ears only. "Ok, yeah. I don't go out of my way to pay attention to extras or ensemble, but if I don't notice you, doesn't that mean you're doing your job?"

Akito had no qualms with scowling at him in public. "My job? My job...is standing on stage plucking heartstrings, making girls wet, and giving guys wet dreams," he asserted, getting a little too close for comfort. He leaned toward Tenma's ear and continued in a voice barely audible. "My job is taking elitists like you down a peg and sending the message that even the underdogs have bite.''

"Don't make a scene," Tenma growled.

"A scene? Hardly. I'm just giving that intern in charge of the on-set blog over there a photo op." Backing off suddenly, Hayato winked. "Rising star, Sumeragi Tenma, gets so into character while filming BL drama, he's taken in by the charms of an edgy musician acting as an extra."

"Are you fucking insane?" Tenma hissed.

"Careful now. Your mask's slipping. Don't worry. I'm not trying to sabotage you. Sex sells. It's win-win."

With a chuckle, Akito walked away, leaving Tenma stunned, angry, and infuriatingly turned-on. That was the last thing he needed before performing a kiss scene. Worse... For the first time ever, he was playing opposite someone of the gender he was actually attracted to.

Asamiya Reo was a very handsome guy, even if he did have a tendency to overact. Thanks to Akito, Tenma was in danger of blowing his image with a poorly-timed boner.

Knowing what he had to do, Tenma approached the director. "Mr. Hiiragi, I have a little request."

"Tenma. Of course. What is it?" asked the middle-aged man, fully gray up top with his long hair pulled back into a tail. He looked bemused. It was understandable. Tenma rarely approached him between takes.

"I'm just...feeling a bit off today. I didn't realize how much until that last scene. It really took it out of me all of a sudden," he lied, expertly.

"Really? I haven't seen any signs you weren't at your best! You've been very professional. All right, what do you want to do? Reschedule for tomorrow? We're a bit tight, but if we set up and take care of some of the remaining scenes you're not in, we won't lose too much time."

"No, I think I can get through the remaining hallway scenes and the classroom scenes, I just... The locker scene is important. If I could just lie down for an hour or so, I know I'll be able to do a better job of it."

"Oh, well in that case, we'll bump up Reo's interview. The reporter's already here, anyway. Take an hour's rest, have some lunch if you're up to it, and then we'll carry on if you're all right. Sound good?"

"Very. Thank you for being so flexible. I know it's not easy to manage schedules."

"Not at all. I can't have my love interest falling ill because I pushed him too hard. I know how dedicated you are, Tenma, so if you say you need a rest, I hear you. Go on. I'll send someone along to check on your needs."

The first thing Tenma did when he was sequestered in the confines of his trailer was adjust himself. Then, he scratched his stomach, which triggered a forgotten butt itch he also scratched without shame. There was nothing quite like a moment of true privacy.

He wouldn't be alone for long, though, so he parked himself on the sofa facing away from the trailer door and let his head roll back, enjoying the soothing darkness of the backs of his eyelids. The first scene of the day had been scheduled to capture the sunrise, so he'd been in the chair having his make-up done well before dawn. It had been a packed morning since then, and he was genuinely grateful for the break.

He hadn't even realized he was idly rubbing his crotch until a knock came at the door. His hand hastily retracted and he propped it behind his head. 

"Come in!" he called, pasting on a carefully worn-out smile for the shy assistant the director favored. 

The door opened to none other than the extra who had sent Tenma scuttling to his trailer in the first place. He was swinging a plastic bag from one hand and smirking annoyingly, his gaze taking in the simple but elegant decor.

He whistled. "Always wondered what the inside of one of these looked like. Anyway, they said you were feeling sick and might need some refreshment."

"And they sent you?" Tenma growled.

"Well, I told them I'm in the Summer ensemble over at Mankai and didn't mind checking in on you. If you were sick, our director would be worried, too. Here." Pulling out a bottle of cola, Akito tossed it to Tenma, who caught it with a scowl. "You're not sick, so I figured some soda would do the trick."

"If I wasn't sick—"

"Then it'd take quite the conundrum to send you scurrying for privacy." Akito reached for the door behind him, turning the lock with a snick. Dangling a bottle from his other hand after hanging the plastic bag on the door handle, he approached the angrily muted Tenma. Without a word, he planted his knees on either side of Tenma's legs and leaned over. His hair, loose from the usual tail, hung down handsomely around his face, even when he tucked some of it back behind his ear. 

"If I put you in an awkward position, I figure the least I can do is take care of it," he muttered. "Any objections?"

Tenma refused to answered the obvious. He wasn't going to play into this jerk's hands.

"Security is really lacking if just anyone can come in here because they say they know me," he said coldly, returning to the earlier topic of conversation to buy some time.

With a smirk slowly transforming his features, Akito was suddenly emitting an aura so sexual it put a lump in Tenma's throat. Damn him, but he was more than just talk. Tenma started imagining him in concert, seducing anything with eyes through every motion and look...

Lining his lips up with Tenma's ear, Akito chuckled in a way that was so erotic it made Tenma shudder with confused sensation. "I have my ways," he murmured.

"Don't screw with me on set," Tenma hissed. "I get it, ok? I was rude. But I wouldn't screw with you backstage before a concert. Just let me-"

"Shame. I honestly wouldn't mind."

Akito's hands were wandering. He waited for Tenma's eyes to open before slowly maneuvering then to Tenma's belt buckle.

"You sure you don't want me to...screw with you?"

Damn, but Tenma was fully hard and there was no hiding it.

"I'm not sure of anything," he groaned. "Why are you doing this?"

"Wow." Aki momentarily removed his hands. Raising them as if in a stick-up, to show he wasn't doing anything suspicious as he spoke on. "You're adorably straight-forward when it counts. I'm not messing with you. Promise. I'm not mad you forgot my name, either. It's not like we talk." At last, he let his hands down, and for the first time, Tenma got a real sense of who he actually was as he pulled his hair behind his ear and dropped all pretenses. "I just think you're cute. And I'd feel bad if I caused problems for you just cause I can't rein it in."

Tenma snorted, suddenly feeling fascinated by everything about Aki, though he'd never admit it. "You can't keep it in your pants so your solution is to whip it out?"

"Works every time. Like a charm. So?"

"So...?"

Aki leaned over him, hands resting lightly on his chest for purchase. "You want my help, or not, baton boy?"

"B-baton...?" Tenma wasn't a complete moron. He could tell when he was being teased by now, and there was no refuting the baton in his pants, jutting up at Aki. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Playing into Aki's hands and getting into another pissing contest would just make matters worse. So what was his answer? Did he want Aki's help? He couldn't risk getting hard out there during the take, and clearly he wasn't opposed to having Aki's hands on him, no matter how they clashed in terms of personality... He could just take care of things himself, but at this rate he'd just be beating off over Aki, anyway... So, yes. Yes, he did. As long as it really was help. 

"No strings, no fuss, and no one ever knows?"

"However you want it."

Why did everything out of this guy's mouth have to be a turn on?

Tenma schooled himself, knowing he had to be extra careful in his private life. "How can I trust you after that stunt you pulled earlier?"

"Because I'm a professional, too, and you know it. That little scene was harmless and it'll make us both hot topics for all of five seconds—just long enough to sell a few extra tickets to the movie, and to my next show." 

Tenma nodded in acceptance. He couldn't deny that a little gossip of that sort on this particular set could work in his favor, particularly if it was perceived as one-sided flirting on the part of Aki, an older but platonic acquaintance from Mankai... Besides, Tenma had never known any of their ensemble to fool around in rehearsal, so he did trust in Aki's professionalism. 

The moment he reached his decision, Aki's manner changed completely. He lowered his lips toward Tenma's, and his hands finally returned to Tenma's belt buckle, smoothly sliding the leather through the loops. 

"People love idle gossip, but nobody would ever believe I'd be here in this trailer, getting you off before your big kiss scene so you don't blow your perfectly crafted cover. That would just be...scandalous." 

The last word was overly sibilant, and the drawn-out sound cut off all at once as Aki's lips closed over Tenma's, his tongue sweeping the young star's up in a kiss much deeper and sexier than anything ever captured on camera.

Tenma didn't have a lot of the same "firsts" as other people, so he wasn't expecting to need any emotional conditioning to keep himself from getting lost in Aki's kiss...but he belatedly learned that sometimes your first time doing something wasn't always the one that counted. Suddenly, he was glad for the opportunity to blow off some steam before he kissed another guy—a damn attractive one, at that—in front of a crowd of onlookers. Better yet, he was really starting to warm up to Aki, so compared to how good it felt to have this guy's tongue sliding against his, and soft, rose-bud lips rubbing against his own, that camera kiss would be no sweat.

He jumped at the sound of his own whimper when Aki's fingers slid inside his pants and began teasing his flesh, but then he pushed the older guy away, panting for breath and shaking his head. "Gotta take off my costume," he gasped, Yuki's angry pout flashing through his head.

Even more-so than on stage, the slightest wrinkle in the uniform he wore would show up on screen, let alone any unsavory stains or splatters that would be much harder to conceal...

"I was getting to that," Aki said with a chuckle.

Tenma shook his head again, getting to his feet and moving away from his seducer. "No, we have to strip. Now. Both of us. Costumes hung up on the rack before we do anything, okay?"

"I hear you, Tenma... But believe me, as much as I'd love to take my time with you, strip down naked, and prep you up for some real fun... We don't have that kind of luxury. Trust me, okay? I won't let any harm come to your costume, or mine."

Aki moved toward him, gently reaching for his hips and urging him to calm stillness. When Tenma expected to be kissed again, he gasped with surprise, because Aki—true to his word—took a pillow from the sofa and sank to his knees instead, protecting his costume from the floor. He peeled Tenma's tailor-fit uniform pants from his hips but didn't let them crumple or fall, balancing everything just right so that he could free Tenma's raging erection without any lasting disarray to his costume.

"There," he said, smiling blindingly, before he bowed his head over Tenma's hard-on and took it right into his mouth without preamble.

"Holy shit," Tenma breathed, not at all ready for the sensations that rocked him.

He slammed one hand against the trailer wall as a brace, cupping Aki's head with the other, long hair spilling through his fingers. He was instantly a living bundle of nerves, jolting and trembling with every change in pressure or method. Aki was very nearly a pro.

Something about the cheap, dirty, and dubious nature of being blown in a trailer rubbed Tenma up the wrong way while simultaneously making the whole experience that much more thrilling. He groaned as quietly as he could manage, fully aware of how thin the trailer walls were, but his knees were going weak.

He didn't even know he was doing it, but Aki's name spilled from his lips in a whispered mantra of pleading, grateful disbelief. Then, just as Tenma was teetering on the brink of something momentous, there was only soft breath on his damp, heated flesh.

"You've forgotten my name again."

"W-what....?" Tenma stuttered incredulously, wracking his wool-lined, feverish brain.  
What he really wanted was to growl and scold, and coax Aki back onto his dick, but he schooled himself. "No I haven't."

"What is it then?"

Tenma glowered. "Aki." He frowned, not liking the cynical arch of that one, mocking eyebrow. "Aki...o." He huffed, when all that was forthcoming was a critical stare. "Akito?"

"There it is," Akito praised, immediately scooping Tenma's bobbing erection up in his hand and guiding it back to his mouth like a hot dog. This time, he began craning his neck back and forth while maintaining a solid suction that quickly tipped Tenma over the edge, moaning close-mouthed into the hand hastily clapped over his lips to muffle the shout that wanted to tear from him his chest. He rocked and shook with failing restraint, and had to fight his reflexes to open his eyes and watch his essence licked from Akito's thumb and the web leading up his forefinger. The smolder in the musician's eyes was the most predatory thing Tenma had ever seen, and he was surprised by another little spurt that Akito dove on before a drop could spill on either of their precious costumes.

*

"Great rehearsal, everyone, and thank you to the ensemble for making time to practice with us and having so much patience while our principals worked out a few things."

If the director's eyes wandered to Tenma for a moment, no one was surprised. It wasn't every day you got to see Tenma Sumeragi fumble his lines, trip on air, and blush like a poppy.

Akito was fascinated, because Tenma hadn't shown the slightest hint of virginal fluster after their little tryst in the trailer. On set, he'd been cool as a cucumber. He kissed that hottie playing the romantic lead with all the flirtatious amour of an out-gay highschooler with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Five times. Because his scene partner kept screwing up the take. Akito suspected it was entirely intentional. Otherwise, that dude wasn't half the pro Tenma was.

It was simultaneously frustrating and impressive how suave Tenma could be when he really turned it on. That was why it was so endearing to watch him fall apart in front of the Summer Troupe the moment Akito showed up. It proved how much he trusted them. Not to mention, how much of an impression Akito had made.

As rehearsal wrapped up, Akito considered how to play it. He could put the moves on, approach Tenma and ask him out for coffee... Or, he could wait for Tenma to come to him. There was no guarantee that the teen star would overcome his pride and actually acknowledge Akito as a living, breathing human being rather than some kind of glorified stage prop, but...

"Akihito, right?"

Looking up in surprise from his bend to pick up his bag and jacket, Akito was caught completely off guard. He was both frustrated and amused that Tenma had somehow found a whole new way to screw up his name, but far more interested in the fact that his calculations had been totally off.

"Close enough," he said, schooling himself to a smirk and standing up straight. "What I can I do for you?"

"You're a musician, right? If you have some time, I was hoping I could pick your brains over dinner. I'm auditioning for a young composer role, and I really wanna get it right."

"Dinner?" asked Akito, raising his eyebrows.

"Omi's making pizza for the dorm tonight. It's better than any restaurant food, I promise."

"Ah." Akito quashed a flare of disappointment. "At the dorm... Sure. I've tasted Omi's cooking. Wouldn't wanna turn that down."

"Oh, are you joining us for dinner tonight, Akito? Actually, Yuki said he's heading home tonight after rehearsal to celebrate his mother's birthday, so there's plenty of room at the table," announced the director. The moment she said his name, Tenma flinched, and Akito had to stifle a chuckle.

"Actually... Since Yuki won't be around, I thought we could take some pizza to my room so I can focus on the character study. If... If you wouldn't mind...Akito."

There it was, that self-conscious streak that undercut Tenma's overt narcissism and lit a fire under Akito's libido. It was adorable. Besides, Tenma was being surprisingly forward. He could hardly turn that down.

"I'm all yours," he said, meaning it exactly the way it sounded.

Tenma, at least, interpreted the innuendo correctly, shooting him a glare.

Half an hour later, they were munching on pizza in Tenma and Yuki's room, a slightly awkward silence stretching out until they could no longer use the food as an excuse to stay silent. Eventually, Tenma caved.

"There really is a composer role I'm auditioning for, but...I don't really need help."

"I figured," Akito commented, lightly.

"I just wanted to see you in private, to..." 

Tenma trailed off, and it was evident that he wasn't sure where he was going with this. It was also evident that he wanted to pursue things between them, somehow. He just needed a push.

"Honestly, I'm surprised," Akito told him, plainly. "I figured you'd just go back to ignoring me."

"Yeah, well... I owe you," Tenma said quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"No. You don't," Akito insisted. He waited for Tenma to look up at him, purposely keeping his posture relaxed to put a damper on his sex appeal. This part was important. "There's no quid pro quo, here. If that's why we're here, just say thanks and we'll leave it at that."

The look of shock on Tenma's face was almost comical. "That's not... I thought you..." The teen star looked down at the table, his face clouding over with much deeper emotion than anticipated. "Maybe Yuki's right. Maybe I am a total idiot with a big head and no sense of reality."

"Oi, now you're starting to sound like Muku," Akito scolded. He leaned forward, unconsciously, forgetting his intention to keep things cool and professional until Tenma made his feelings clear. "Listen, Tenma... I like you. If you got vibes, that's cause they're there. I mean, you know that right? I don't go around blowing just anybody for their convenience... I just wanna be clear that I don't expect anything. I don't make a habit of taking advantage of younger guys."

"It's not...taking advantage if I'm into it."

The hopeful glint in Tenma's shyly raised eyes tugged real hard at the heart strings... Especially the heart strings connected to the groin. No wonder Tenma was a hit on the screen, with exquisite expressions like that in his arsenal.

Akito cleared his throat, leaning back into the arm chair to renew the physical distance between them before he stole a kiss without thinking. He wasn't supposed to be the one who was flustered. He wasn't used to being flustered at all, in fact. Fluster was for people who fought against their sex drives and denied themselves what they wanted. It wasn't often that Akito denied himself, if he really wanted something, but the truth was that it was less often that he himself really did want something. He often responded to the interest others showed in him, but they were genuinely the type who didn't covet more than a single night with him. This was different, and he'd known it from the moment he went after Tenma that day on set.

Needing to make his position clear, because he knew his demeanor said otherwise, Akito spoke flatly and bluntly. "Isn't it? Because you're not the exception to the rule. Pretty much everyone is into this." He gestured down at himself with his eyes, bringing them back up to stare right into Tenma's and bring his point home. "That doesn't mean it's right to jump them before there's any kind of emotional connection, if that's what they're really looking for. What happened during that shoot... I took responsibility for putting you in that position, but normally I'd take a guy out to dinner first. If you're sure about this, I won't leave you hanging, but—"

"Nobody talks to me the way you do. Even Yuki and the others, they still treat me like I'm different, even if they don't go around gaping and fawning like most people. They just overcompensate by ribbing me and whatnot. You treat me like... Like an equal. You know what it's like for people to put you up on a pedestal without knowing who you really are. You respect my work, and my dedication to it... I keep thinking about that, all the time. You knew I was in a pinch, and that I was doing my best. You made sure I didn't get distracted or lose track of time. You took care to preserve the costumes... You were thinking of my public image the whole time. I really...really respect that. I never thought of musicians as being responsible like that before, but you are... And I admire you. I looked up your band. You're good. Really good. I can tell it's not just a hobby or something you do to get laid, or... You take your music seriously, and you must have worked really hard to get so good. I admire you...and that's important to me. So I...want to find out if there can be more to this. I know you probably thought I'd handle this better, or maybe worse. I know it's not like me to be so honest about my feelings, but... I trust you with them."

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there. Tenma professing his trust was like Akito admitting he wrote the band's lyrics from personal experience. This was escalating way faster than he had expected. Still, there was one thing that bugged him, and he just couldn't resist addressing it first.

"If you went so far as to look me up, how come you didn't memorize my name while you were at it, hm?"

That was obviously not what Tenma expected, and his response was an explosion of frustration. "Look, I'm not good with names, okay? I have to memorize so many lines and character names short-term... There's only so much information I can cram into my head! It'll stick if you just keep reminding me, all right? I'm not proud of it, so—"

God damn but he was cute. Akito didn't even know he was going to do it until he was crouched over the arm of Tenma's chair, his fingers bunched in the front of Tenma's shirt and his tongue slipping between words and grunts to tackle Tenma's.

"I've been good," he growled against Tenma's lips when his initial thirst was slaked. "I've been so damn good. But now I'm gonna screw your brains out if you don't say something to stop me real fast. You probably shouldn't trust me so easily."

"I can't stop thinking about you," Tenma breathed, reaching for Akito's lips himself. Akito dodged for a moment, letting Tenma's desire mount, and then let him have the kiss. Meanwhile, his hands wandered, riding up under Tenma's shirt and mapping out his carefully maintained physique. When Akito broke the kiss to nibble at Tenma's ear and lick his neck, the actor shyly began to touch him back. "Everything I said is true, but...this is, too. I've never been so attracted to anyone in my life. I'm kinda terrified, but...I also really kinda want you to screw my brains out."

"Say my name," Akito insisted, pulling Tenma's shirt up over his head as he dipped to catch a nipple between his teeth and worry it with his tongue.

Tenma might have been stalling if the sounds coming out of him weren't so impossible to fake. They made Akito's cock throb in his jeans.

"Aki...to..."

"Good," Akito murmured, working on Tenma's belt buckle.

This time, he spared Tenma's erection a few licks before pulling solid thighs over his shoulders and tipping Tenma back in his seat, exposing a neat, round rosebud, puckering with every labored breath.

"Akito..."

Smirking, he leaned in and pressed his tongue to Tenma's hole, licking and applying pressure until it relaxed enough for him to work the muscle inside a little.

"Akito. Ah... Nnn... Shit."

With light, teasing brushes of his fingers, Akito reached up to tease a shuddering hard-on as he worked Tenma's ass, eager to open it up for himself. He couldn't remember the last time he wanted someone so badly. As he slid his fingers inside, plunging them back and forth to stretch the unaccustomed sphincter muscles to accommodate his piece, he thought of the first time he'd seen Tenma. It was actually a fairly recent movie. He didn't watch a lot of TV. He'd been dating a girl who cancelled their date at the last second because she had a cold, so he decided to surprise her with some soup and flowers to make her feel better. She was shacked up at home on the couch, with tissues and a blanket, crying over some cheesy love triangle. He promised to maintain his distance so he wouldn't get sick, staying until the end of the movie despite her arguments. The truth was, he was interested from the moment he saw Tenma on the screen. This hot, young guy was acting out the world's worst dialogue with such a range of subtle emotion even Akito got a little teary-eyed by the end. Not long after that, he'd wound up at Mankai, but he'd never known the name of the actor, and Tenma had been wearing a wig in the movie, so he only found out in retrospect that Tenma was that guy. Now, he wondered how he could have missed it, seeing Tenma's acting up close in rehearsals and performances. He wasn't exactly a fan, but he wasn't quite not, either. Not that he'd ever admit that to Tenma.

What was the word Tenma had used? Admiration. Maybe that was the secret ingredient. Maybe that was what turned want into like and desire into love. Akito couldn't pinpoint when exactly he'd fallen for Tenma. It might have been before their encounter on set, and it might have been after. Hell, it might even have been five minutes ago... But he'd fallen now, and there was no going back.

Standing up to shed his own clothes, Akito stumbled into the table. Annoyed by the interference, he pushed it out of the way and stripped down fast. As he was pulling off his boxers, he realized Tenma was watching him with an odd combination of confusion and greed.

"What?" he asked, feeling uncommonly self-conscious under that conflicted gaze.

"You're less composed than I imagined," Tenma murmured. "You just seem so in control all the time."

Akito actually felt his cheeks grow hot. What was wrong with him? He hadn't blushed since he lost his virginity years ago... He glowered. "I'm not a sex doll, you know. Sorry if I'm not living up to your expectations."

"Don't be. Seeing you like this... I feel wanted. For real. It's...driving me a little mad."

Well, shit. None of this was going according to expectation, and Akito was starting to wonder if he was completely losing control of himself, let alone the situation.

Naked and vulnerable, in more ways than just the physical, Akito stood before Tenma and spoke the truth. "I want you, Tenma," he muttered. "It's nothing new. I was never gonna do anything about it, but then I ended up on set that day and you actually approached me after the take, and I just couldn't help myself. I broke a bunch of my own rules, and now I can't even put on a good show of being chill about this. It really isn't like me."

"So don't put on a show," Tenma breathed, reaching out a hand. Akito took it and was pulled in to stand between Tenma's spread legs. 

There was a nervous energy as he moved into that space, betraying Tenma's inexperience. Akito had to get it together, because it was his job to make Tenma feel secure and comfortable. He slid his hand along Tenma's arm, bending to initiate a deep kiss as he positioned himself. 

Adding a little bite to Tenma's lip, he whispered, "You're right. I won't hide anything from you, if you promise not to hide anything from me. We can be real with each other, even if we can't with the rest of the watching world. Deal?"

Tenma nodded, as though he didn't trust himself to speak just yet. He put his hand on Akito's back, running it slowly down to grasp the round of a hip. "Deal," he whispered. Responding to that touch, Akito began trying to enter Tenma, but he quickly realized it was futile. "This isn't going to work," he said. "I don't wanna hurt you. Don't you have any lubricant?"

"Just...hand cream," Tenma said, gesturing to the table behind Akito.

Turning, Akito searched for a tub or something on the table, but then he noticed a tube lying on the floor. It must have fallen off when he moved the thing. "This'll do," he said, amused by a strong whiff of roses when he spun the cap off. 

Lubing up quickly, he added and extra dollop to his fingers and worked them back inside of Tenma, slicking up his insides. By the time he was done, Tenma was panting. The arms of the big, padded chair were dented heavily under his clawed hands and his body was rife with tension.

"I can't take much more of this," he groaned. "I'm not nervous anymore, okay? Just fuck me already."

A dark chuckle accompanied Akito's movement as he re-positioned himself at Tenma's entrance. He brushed back orange bangs from mesmerizing lilac eyes, sliding his thumb down over a cut cheek bone, and then over Tenma's lips. "What would your fans think if they could hear you talk like that?" he crooned, testing the give as he pressed the head of his cock against Tenma's ass.

"Shut up," Tenma hissed, tossing his head back and stroking himself lightly.

"I'll shut up if you swear at me again," Akito breathed into Tenma's ear, inching deeper in short bursts. He braced his arm against the back of the armchair, curling his fingers through Tenma's softly groomed hair.

"Fuck you," Tenma moaned, gripping Akito's hip with one hand while the other ran up and down the terrain of Akito's chest, making his nipples buzz with inconstant friction.

"Maybe next time," Akito teased, easing back a little before driving in deeper, until Tenma let out a little cry and bit his lip.

They stopped bantering then, too engrossed in the sensations both outward an inward. Their hands explored, and occasionally lips and tongues, too. Akito didn't shy from using his teeth on Tenma's sensitive flesh, either. Meanwhile, Tenma continued to stroke himself, showing little signs of pain as Akito maneuvered inside of him, keeping a loose rhythm so as to draw things out a little longer.

At one point, Akito saw signs of conflict in Tenma's eyes, growing curious as Tenma developed a deep flush all over his face, and then blurted out, "I should have known a dirty slut like you would fuck like a horny imp..." 

The dirty talk was so on point, yet so at odds with Tenma's embarrassed demeanor, that it caused a spike in Akito's arousal, inspiring a burst of speed which became a steady, rhythmic, pounding pace.

Tenma groaned, clutching Akito's back and arching his body to gain more contact. "Try slamming my g-spot a bit harder why don't you?" he gasped. "You...two-bit whore..."

"Oh fuck..." Akito's hips sped up further until he stopped cold, freezing in place. He was dripping with sweat. Burying his face in Tenma's neck, he made a heartfelt plea. "Stop... I take it back. Keep talking like that and I'm gonna cum too soon."

Tenma was breathing heavily, gently stroking Akito's back and shifting just slightly for comfort. "You...really like that?" he asked.

"Not...usually..." Akito shook his head, not sure how to explain it. Yes, he'd encouraged Tenma to talk dirty, but this wasn't what he'd expected. This was demeaning, and shocking, and it was sexy in a way, but in that same way that watching the kind of kinky porn that clashed with all of your morals made you hornier the more shame you felt. "It's just...so out of character from you...it gets to me, somehow."

Tenma's voice was carefully flat as he asked, "You like me better that way?"

"No," Akito responded immediately. He liked Tenma's sweet innocence and professional nature. He liked Tenma's outgoing schoolboy persona, too, the one that got into shouting matches with Yuki and came off a bit arrogant in rehearsals. He didn't need Tenma to change in any way to turn him on. This unexpected kink was just an acquired taste, a garnish that accelerated the experience. He eased back, so that Tenma could see how sincere he was. "I just... I'm used to being in control, but you have this effect on me that makes me want to...I dunno. Give it up. Share it. Let it go... It scares me a little, and that...turns me on, I guess." He studied Tenma's face, like an artwork of unique coloring, and perfect rounds and angles. "When I encouraged you to talk dirty, I just wanted to see a side of you that nobody else gets to have... I honestly didn't think you had it in you to...say things like that."

Tenma's gaze was unflinching. "I'm an actor. I can be whatever you want me to," he reminded.

"I just want you to be you," Akito promised, stroking Tenma's hair. "If you like it...you can call me whatever the hell you want while we're doing it, but... You don't have to force yourself to change to please me."

"What if..." Tenma licked his lips, shifting his eyes aside in the usual tell that he was about to say something personal. He could make eye contact throughout the most bold-faced lie, but when something really mattered to him, he struggled to let you see inside his soul.

"Look at me," Akito encouraged.

Tenma sighed out a breath and complied. "What if, what I really want, is for you to kiss me, and never stop, and to say sweet things, and to cum together, and to promise there won't be anyone else as long as we're together, and... It's stupid, I know. Deep down, Tenma Sumeragi is just a naive kid, with an embarrassing romantic streak..."

"Works for me," Akito whispered, gently easing Tenma's lips into a slow and sensual kiss. The calm, lapping rhythm set a new pace as Akito began rocking his hips again, taking Tenma's erection in his own hand and stroking steadily.

Kinky trash-talk wasn't bad, and maybe they could explore more of that another time, but this... This was much better. Tenma was putty in his hands, shifting constantly with need, and making precious sounds of pleasure in his throat as they continued kissing slowly all the while.

Suddenly breaking the kiss to take several long deep breaths, Tenma's body gave itself away, tensing drastically, his hands gripping Akito's back, hard. "I'm... I'm gonna..."

Moving his lips to Tenma's ear, Aktio slipped in a final reminder. "My name...is Akito," he whispered, before taking the lobe of Tenma's ear between his teeth and worrying it carefully.

"Akinnngg... Akito!" Tenma shouted, beginning to jerk from the abdomen as he started cumming hard.

The shout of his name caused Akito to reach a sudden orgasm himself, as he imagined all the ears that must have been pricked at that sound. He groaned around Tenma's earlobe, whispering his lover's name on a breath as he blew his own load in several long, steady bursts.

*

In the morning, Tenma ducked into the kitchen to grab some toast, and found Azuma seated at the table, sleepily sipping at a huge mug of coffee.

"Late night last night?" he asked casually.

"Roughly as late as yours, I suppose," Azuma drawled.

Tenma froze, slowly turning his head to check if he was hearing the shade he thought he was hearing.

"I happened to pass by your door some time in the very early morning... I assume Akito's still in there, sleeping off the exercise."

Horror dawned as Tenma suddenly flashed back through the events of the night, realizing how loud they'd been. Putting up a false front, he tried to shrug it off outwardly, popping a piece of toast into the toaster. Inwardly, he was freaking out. "You're one to talk," he said shortly, hoping Azuma would leave it at that.

"Quite," Asuma agreed, lightly. "Although, you're much braver than I, considering that only a stairwell stands between your room and our dear director's. Not to worry. She was probably listening to the binaural beat music I lent her when people started pairing off all over the dorm. It requires headphones to have any real effect on sleep. Kazu must have gotten quite the earful, though... I'm sure it'll keep him busy for many nights to come. Or maybe he'll keep me busy, instead... One can only hope."

The toaster popped, and Tenma's charred breakfast leapt out to meet him. "Please...don't tell anyone about this," Tenma he begged, defeated. Taking his toast to the table for some margarine, he fell into a seat. "If this got out, my career would be...toast."

"Your secret's safer with me than it is with you," Azuma said dryly. He smiled, then, and Tenma felt strangely peaceful for it. "He seems to be good for you. I'm glad. What was his name again? I don't know all the ensemble members, personally."

"Akito," Tenma said quietly, slathering some rose jam on his toast for a bit of extra sweetness. "Akito Taninaga. And don't go getting any ideas. I think...it's pretty serious."


End file.
